


Good Things

by warmheartseek



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Deception, F/F, Hallucinations, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-06-14 21:12:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 50,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15397560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warmheartseek/pseuds/warmheartseek
Summary: Edward never thought he would be worthy of a soulmate, Oswald never thought he would live long enough to find his own.





	1. Means To An End

 Oswald was too busy staring unperturbed at the hand that rested on his forearm to listen for whatever briefing this new lackey was giving. Something or other about a rat in their operation, nothing that Oswald had not seen in his previous dealings. Find them, dispose of them, and cover his tracks.

 

The trick was old hat.

 

   Oswald convinced himself there was no need to check under his jacket where the underling’s hand had been, he never expected any marking to show and he was terribly steadfast in his accuracy. If Oswald reached forward to grab his pen and the sleeve inched up to reveal nothing more than the typical, pale skin beneath then that was just as well. 

 Oswald leaned heavy on his desk, putting up a hand to silence the twitchy man still prattling on in his office.

 

“This is of course _very_ troubling news for me, friend, but I’m afraid I have many other important matters to attend to before the day is out. So if you’d please.”

 

 Oswald’s voice dripped with mock concern, he stood and gestured towards his open office doors. The nameless man snapped his mouth shut and clutched papers to his chest before hurrying out of the office. What good would it do to learn the name of a man who would leave no mark on Oswald, physical or otherwise? The man had long since given up hope he would find his supposed “soulmate”, the one who would leave their mark with just one touch. Oswald would never admit the burn he felt inside to know what it must feel like. Would it hurt? Was it permanent? Was he the first to be undeserving of such a chance? So the man kept his gloves on at all times, worried for the moment he may discover that person. They would immediately become a pawn for anyone attempting to hurt Oswald, and there were plenty looking for such an opportunity.

  However, there were more things for the King of Gotham to be focused on than some silly story. As of then, he needed to inform Zsasz of a little rodent problem.  

 

* * *

 

  Edward shuffled past the bullpen, careful to keep his head down and his glasses from sliding off his face. Filing his paperwork in a timely fashion was not worth the assured ridicule he’d faced if any of the oafish men in uniform noticed him, though he made sure to walk past Kristen Kringle’s desk on the way to his destination. Such a beautiful spectacle, a woman carved from marble, she was fine art in a place so foul as the GCPD.

     Edward flashed a careful smile at her, afraid to stare for too long. No one liked it when he did that, as he’d learned the very, very hard way. The smile Ms. Kringle returned was tight and calculated. Ed still believed it to be the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen. He’d always thought about getting closer, possibly brushing his hand against her wrist to see what color her skin might become.

 

If he would even leave a mark.

 

   He quickly shook the thought from his head, there was a reason Ed kept gloves on at all times, being much too afraid to make a discovery of that nature. Ed knew himself too well to trust that his soulmate would be safe around Him. Ed quickly and quietly filed his papers, made a stop at Jim Gordon’s desk, and did his best to ignore the horrible excuse of a joke from Detective Bullock. He made a quick beeline for the comfort of his own lab.

Ed always had the nagging thought in his head that one day he would be working the latest crime scene and the unfortunate soul who lay under the blue canvas sheet would light up at his touch. He imagined it would be a sickly, pale color drained of life that matched the person to whom it belonged.

 

That would be Ed’s luck.

 

   In Ed’s years at the GCPD and various cadaver labs in school, that nightmare had yet to come true. He thanked the fates for small miracles. Still, Ed dreamed of when he would discover his soulmate, torn between yearning for a level of human connection he had only seen in films, and fearing what He would do to such a good thing.

 

Ed was never allowed good things, He made sure of that.

 

  Suddenly the fingerprint analysis set before Ed looked wholly uninteresting as his mind wandered to thoughts of blissful romance. Maybe something so virtuous as two souls destined for each other would finally silence the ugly thoughts in his head, a hissing voice that ordered him to do such awful things. That hateful face in the mirror who taunted him, the mouth curling and twisting in something resembling a smile but was always much too poisonous to be called as such. He hated how easily it drew him in, how beautiful it made such evil exploits sound.

 

That face.

 

Ed’s own face.

 

The brooding man was startled from his thoughts by a sudden voice behind him.

 

“Hey Ed, are you feeling alright?” Lee mused, placing a comforting hand on the man’s shoulder.

 

  Ed hoped she did not see the way he jolted at her sudden presence. He inhaled sharply to try and center himself, such inner conflict got terribly exhausting. He turned over his shoulder to give the doctor a weak smile, eyes glancing quickly at her carefully placed hand.

 

“Yes,” Ed cleared his throat, embarrassed by how weak his voice sounded, “right as rain. Thank you for your concern, Dr. Tompkins.”

 

“Ed, we’ve worked together for a year now, you can just call me Lee.”

 

“Right, of course Dr. Tom-, Lee. I am fine, honest. I appreciate the visit.” Ed stuttered out, still on edge from the thoughts pressing painfully against his skull.

 

“Okay, if you’re sure,” Lee sounded thoroughly unconvinced but Ed was grateful she let the issue be, “you know I’m just down the hall, please stop by if you ever need anything.”

 

‘ _A lobotomy sounds just dandy right about now,’_ Ed thought to himself.

 

  He only nodded his head and thanked Lee before she exited his lab as quietly as she entered. A terribly lonely feeling in Ed’s gut warned him there was no need to look where Lee’s hand had been but he rationed with himself that there was no harm in simply checking. No dice, what a surprise. At least Ed could rule out Dr.Tompkins, as if their being together would make any rational sense.

Ed once again faced the boring case evidence in front of him, prepared to do absolutely nothing but nurse his headache for the rest of the day. The combination of formaldehyde and self destructive introspection made for a disappointingly bitter cocktail.  

 

* * *

 

  Oswald leaned his head to either side, relishing in the loud pops sounding from his neck, far too long spent looking over meaningless requests for more firepower from local gangs under his control. Oswald knew there was very little that could sway his hand and some faceless plea on paper certainly wasn’t going to do the trick. Still, appearances had to be kept up for a man in his position. The tired kingpin let a loud groan escape into the empty room, dreading his next appointment.

 

A visit to the GCPD.

 

There were cops that needed paying off and evidence that needed destroying, hell if Oswald was going to let any incompetent underling do the work that kept his name clean. Well, clean enough. Oswald grinned at the thought. Variety was the spice of life, was it not?

 

* * *

 


	2. Enlighten Me

   Oswald wrinkled his nose at the stench of the police station, too many large men in unwashed uniforms and each more barbaric than the last. How Oswald detested the weak displays of masculinity they paraded around their workplace, the man himself was a criminal but no one could say he was so unprofessional. Then again, no one would dare.

Oswald once again smiled at his own thought. How could the kingpin expect anyone to understand him the way he understood himself? The man flexed his fingers, curling and uncurling, watching the way the fabric of his gloves stretched over his knuckles. No time for such silly thoughts, there was business that needed tending.

 

Oswald delighted in the way Jim Gordon’s face tightened at his being there.

 

“Hello, old friend,” Oswald jeered, venom in every inch of his toothy grin.

 

Jim’s signature unsure expression was plastered on his face.

 

“Oswald. To what do I owe the pleasure, come to confess?” Jim rasped.

 

Oswald gave a breathy scoff at the accusation, “I’m afraid I’ve nothing to confess, Detective. You know as well as any, I am just the same as all the upstanding businessmen this fair city has to offer.”

 

Oswald could feel the lie slipping through every space between his teeth, sweet and untraceable.

 

Jim returned the scoff, adding his own disbelieving eye roll into the mix.

 

“Of course, and I assume it was business that brought the great Penguin into our humble police station?”

 

“Oh, Jim,” Oswald’s grimace hardly tried to turn itself into a smile, “flattery will get you everywhere. But I’m afraid I do have matters of my own to attend to, so this is where I make my exit. See you very soon I’m sure, Detective.”

 

“Ya, right, see you soon.” Jim grumbled and tacked on a pained smile.

 

  Oswald was new to the world of evidence tampering, he had no ease in finding the room he needed and loathed the idea of asking anyone for help. Finally, he reached an unmarked door with an opaque pane of glass obscuring the room’s contents. There were a list of things that stopped Oswald from exploring his curiosities, locked doors being among them. Thankfully for the endlessly curious man, this was not one of those times.

Oswald opened the door to find a cold and sterile lab, his shoulders slumping with the immediate disappointment of yet another useless room. He took a moment to properly scan over the space, reems worth of notes scattered haphazardly across tabletops, strange colored liquids in glass tubing, and a takeout container under a large magnifying glass with what appeared to be a plate of extracted onions next to it. To his surprise, Oswald’s eyes led him to a man sitting at yet another steel table, a look of utter bewilderment etched on his face. The strange man let out a surprised gasp when he finally locked eyes with Oswald. In turn, Oswald straightened his back, squaring his shoulders to appear as threatening as this man ought to know him for.

 

And this man did know him, that much was clear.

  


* * *

 

    Ed heard his lab door open, assuming it was Lee to check in on him again, or the night cleaner to tell him it was way past work hours. Ed tended to lose time too easily. Though, he had not prepared himself for the reality. A lithe man, clad in black finery. The suit was well made and tailored exquisitely to the stranger’s slender frame. His shoes shone bright in the pale overhead lighting, one look at the man’s feet told Ed exactly who had entered the room. The man’s left foot pointed painfully outward, the tell of a past injury and a name that sent fear up any sane person’s spine.

 

“The Penguin.” Ed whispered, eyes glued to the pale blue ones that met his own.

 

Penguin did not seem deterred by what Ed assumed was a deer-in-headlights expression plastered on his face, the man simply squared his shoulders and tilted his chin up, looking more regal than Ed thought was possible.

 

“The very same. But I must say, you seem to have me at a disadvantage, friend. Clearly you know my name, but I cannot say I know yours. Seeing as how I am trespassing in your office, I think it’s only fair I learn.”

 

The crime boss pulled a tight smile onto his face.

 

Ed opened his mouth, but every word in his vast vocabulary turned to dust on his tongue.

 

 _‘How can you be so frightened by one man,’_ the harsh voice in Ed’s brain echoed against his skull, _‘especially one so short.’_

 

“Shut _up_ ,” Ed hissed, knowing his attempt to silence Him would be of little use.

 

“I beg your pardon?”

 

Ed felt his throat constrict, eyes going painfully wide.

 

“No! Not you Mr. Penguin, I apologize, please. I-I,” Ed took a deep breath to save himself from an early grave, “Edward, Nygma. That’s my name.”

 

The man looked from side to side, moving his tongue across white teeth as if he was warming the name up in his mouth.

 

“It was a pleasure making your acquaintance, _Mr. Nygma_   but I'm afraid I have more pressing matters to attend t-”

 

“Wait, Mr. Penguin! Maybe I can help you find what you’re looking for, you seem to be a bit lost, if you don’t mind my saying so,” Edward gave a nervous chuckle, unsure of where the boundaries lie with such a notorious criminal.

 

Once again, that look of contemplation appeared on Penguin’s face. Ed assumed he must be figuring out where he’d dispose of Ed’s corpse.

 

“Well,” the man clapped his gloved hands together, “I suppose you can be of service to me while I’m here. Could you tell me where one would find the evidence room?”

 

Ed allowed a mischievous grin to creep across his face, thrilled with the idea of assisting such an infamous criminal and in the very police station that tried in vain to capture him. Yes, this would be terribly fun.  

 

“Oh, I can certainly do that.”

 

* * *

 

   Oswald posed the question, assuming he could just kill this strange man if he tried inquire further about why Oswald needed access to such sensitive material. He was pleasantly surprised by how willing the man seemed. Better to keep this gawky scientist in the cards. Oswald motioned past himself, prompting the lanky man lead the way.

The evidence room was no different than the rest of the drab GCPD, dull and covered in vacant cobwebs. Seems even the spiders were unhappy in this environment. Oswald kept his hands held behind his back as Edward led the way into the rows of floor-to-ceiling filing cabinets. The man stopped quickly, causing Oswald to run heavily into his back.

 

“Well a warning would be nice next time, we aren’t all so familiar with this labyrinth,” Oswald scoffed, incredulous.  

 

He smoothed his coat jacket and relished in the panicked look that flashed across Ed’s face.

 

“I’m terribly sorry Mr. Penguin, I’m not so used to having company down here.”

 

“That’s perfectly understandable Edward,” Oswald kept his words sharp, no sense in letting the man get comfortable, “if you would so kind as to hand me the evidence I need destroyed.”

 

Oswald noticed the look on Edward’s face get much too stern for his liking.

 

“Is there a problem, Mr. Nygma?” Oswald put on his very best threatening smile, letting the other man know there was only one answer to that question.

 

“Mr. Penguin, sir. If you handle the evidence bags, the fingerprint transfer could implicate you, should the evidence in question be discovered.”

 

Oswald felt his jaw wrenched open in surprise.

 

“Are you insinuating that I cannot dispose of my own evidence successfully, Mr. Nygma?”

 

“Well, understanding that you needed to be led to the evidence room, I can assume this means you have little experience in the field. Mr. Penguin.”

 

The smile that appeared on Edward’s face sat heavy in Oswald’s stomach. A know-it-all, Oswald had dealt with those before, typically with his favorite blade in hand.

 

“You mean to say you think I am incapable of something so trivial as destroying my own evidence, Edward?”

 

Oswald made sure each word sliced through his gritted teeth. Edward’s eyes went wide. Good. He was back where Oswald wanted him, in fear of his own life. Edward ran a nervous hand through his hair, steeling himself to perfect calm.

 

“Mr. Penguin, I simply mean to say that your entering this precinct with empty hands and leaving with ones full of illegally obtained evidence would not be the most beneficial move to make.”

 

  Ed flashed another smile, one that seemed so genuinely caring it made Oswald’s teeth hurt. He mulled Edward’s comment over, the man seemed to know a thing or two about what would and wouldn’t draw attention to those neanderthals in the bullpen. Oswald straightened his back, sure he hardly came up to Edward’s shoulders but the man seemed so easily overpowered, Oswald could be sure his height would prove no disadvantage in intimidating his new friend. He put on his best fake smile, the one reserved for schmoozing other crime bosses and buttering up geeky fanboys of Gotham’s most notorious criminal.

 

“Edward, you are totally correct, I would be foolish to put myself in harms way like that,” Oswald palmed his forehead for emphasis, “I suppose my mind isn’t as sharp as it once was, I would really benefit from having someone with your brains around.”

 

If Oswald thought too hard about it, he could swear he saw the man’s cheeks turn red, but the other turned too quickly to be certain.

 

Something Oswald was sure to catalog for later.

 

“Well I am simply trying to keep you free to wreak havoc is all, Mr. Penguin. Sir,” Ed finally stuttered out after nervously fiddling with seemingly random files.

 

The crime boss placed a firm hand on Edward’s shoulder, reminding the other of who was in control, no matter how fast that big brain of Ed’s worked.

 

“Please, call me Oswald.”


	3. An Interesting Man, To Say The Least

    Ed felt his blood run cold at the feeling of The Penguin’s hand on his shoulder,  noting the contrast of the chill that went down his spine compared to the intense heat of the man’s gloved hand. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been so terrified and full of revelry at the same time. Something about this man exuded a power that Ed had always craved for himself, how easily the known criminal strode into the GCPD, so confident in his feigned innocence that he didn’t feel the need for an entourage.   

 

“Well Mr.P-Oswald, if you feel uncertain about destroying the evidence, I have access to many lab materials that can ease your worry.”

 

Ed finally faced the man next to him, clutching the evidence in question tight to his chest. Oswald’s hand finally left his shoulder and Ed let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

 

“That is very kind of you Ed,” Oswald clasped his hands together, making Ed jump, “I would gladly take you up on your offer.”

 

    Ed smiled down at the man, amazed at how their notable height difference seemed to make no variance in Ed’s respect, and fear, of him. Ed made sure to get right to work after leading Oswald back to his lab, no sense in keeping the notoriously impatient man waiting. Ed was sure he’d heard somewhere in the cop’s daily drabble that Oswald had shot men for as much.

Ed took his time in placing each item of evidence in their own container of nitric acid. A small handgun in one, a priceless jewel stolen from Gotham museum in another, the works.

 

“And these will dispose of the evidence completely?”

 

Ed swore he could feel Oswald’s tapping foot vibrate against his bones, the expensive leather sole of the shoe like their own percussion section in Ed’s lab.

 

“Not so much destroy as corrode beyond recognition,” Ed smiled devilishly.

 

Oswald flashed what Edward concluded to be a confused look.

 

“You see, nitric acid is a highly corrosive mineral acid that will react with alkalis to-”

 

“Edward,” Oswald hissed, “I do not need a chemistry lesson, I am simply wondering why you are leaving any of these items behind as opposed to ridding of them completely.”

 

“Well yes, any second rate criminal could waltz in here, grab their evidence, and dump it into some hole. But this, Mr. Penguin, is much more fun,” Ed giggled, clapping his hands together.

 

* * *

 

   Oswald felt a seething rage boil in his stomach, this man seemed much more like an overgrown kindergartner than an educated genius. Oswald handled his dealings as swiftly and efficiently as possible, but this man seemed hellbent on utter chaos. A gnawing sensation in Oswald’s gut replaced his rage, perhaps it wasn’t just this man’s strange way of doing things at play. Edward did work for the GCPD and how easy it would be for him to trap Oswald like he had. It was possible the childish act could simply be deception, either way it was utterly disappointing to Oswald, how useful a man on the inside could have been. Oswald sighed and reached into his coat.

 

* * *

 

   Edward would never consider himself an unprepared man, a bit jumpy, but overall very equipped to roll with life’s punches. Often times they were very literal punches. However, something Ed had never prepared for was the click of a gun safety releasing next to his ear. Ed froze and dropped the vile of nitric acid he was preparing to pour over a pair of bloodied brass knuckles, grateful it dropped to the tiled floor and not into his lap. Small mercies, he supposed.

Ed could feel his pulse thrum against the cold steel pressed to his temple. He swore his brain crackled with the speed of thoughts forming and trying to calculate what had gone wrong. Was this Oswald’s plan the entire time? How was the notorious criminal supposed to escape a building full of law enforcement officers with his level of disability? Ed finally forced himself to speak, if only to prolong the inevitable.

 

“Mr. Penguin, sir, if I could just inquire as to what I have done wrong and maybe we can work together to f-”

 

“Enough!”

 

Oswald’s voice was shrill and loud, neither affectation helping Ed’s nerves.

 

“Do you think I’m a fool, Nygma?”

 

Edward knew it was not literal question, nor was it an appropriate situation to give him an honest answer.

 

“Of course not, Mr. Penguin,” Edward couldn’t help the break in his voice, he may have worked at a police station but counted himself lucky enough to avoid this kind of action.

 

“Then tell me _exactly_ why you insist on leaving the very items that can have me put away for life, in tact,” Oswald was practically squawking in Ed’s ear.

 

“I told you sir, it-,” once again Edward was cut off.

 

“Yes, it ‘is much more fun’, so you’ve said. But you will have to give me a real answer unless you feel like forcing that lovely doctor next door to scrub your brain matter off these impeccably clean walls.”

 

   Oswald pushed the gun’s barrel harder into Edward’s temple, he flinched at the painful pressure, a similar pressure building behind his eyes. His vision went fuzzy at the corners, all too telling of who planned to join the fray. Though, Ed supposed it wouldn’t hurt to let Him take control this time, if it meant he could keep the walls free of the aforementioned brain matter.

Ed stood, his shoulder knocking the pistol’s position on the way up. He straightened his glasses and smoothed his jacket. He felt a familiar sense of calm wash over himself as he turned to face the bewildered kingpin still keeping the gun aimed, now at His chest.

 

“Mr. Penguin,” Ed crooned, “I only meant it would be great fun to watch those clueless detectives squirm when they were left with items that once held such value, merely reduced to piles of rusted metal. To watch them forced back to square one as they scrambled to find any other material that could possibly implicate you--”

 

Ed leaned down to Oswald’s ear, allowing the gun to be pressed firmly into his sternum.

 

“-- which we both know, they would _not_.”

 

Ed felt a wicked smile creep across his face when he noticed the mafia boss shiver.

 

“Now, if you would be so kind,” Ed gestured to the loaded gun still pointed in his direction.

 

Oswald quickly placed the weapon back into his suit jacket, still loaded. Ed could respect that, the man wouldn’t be where he was without a healthy dose of paranoia.

 

“Thank you. Now, unless you are planning on surprising me with another weapon, I would like to finish this last piece.”

 

The stunned kingpin nodded wordlessly.

 

“I appreciate that,” Ed shot the man a look over his shoulder as he sat back down, “Oswald.”

 

* * *

 

   Oswald felt his spine chill with the way Edward said his name, he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what had happened, but something about the man had changed. In an instant this gangly scientist was a cold and calculated machine, something devilish and threatening switched on in his eyes. It was haunting how much of himself Oswald saw in Edward Nygma.

 

“Ed,” Oswald placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, noting how strangely warm the man’s skin was, even through such thick clothing, “I would like to proposition you.”

 

Ed gently placed a vile into its’ own holster, a conspirital smile etched into his face as he turned to Oswald.

 

“I’m listening.”

 

Oswald returned the smile.

 

“Edward, I see greatness in you,”

 

Normally Oswald saved that line for low level crime bosses with fragile egos but with Ed, he was able to find meaning behind it.

 

“I would like you to consider working for me. You would still come to the GCPD, keep tabs on the ins and outs of any investigation that could spell trouble for me and report back at the end of the day, in person, at the Iceberg Lounge. I would provide handsome compensation for your efforts, of course.”

 

Oswald was sure Ed’s face must have ached with the width of his smile.

 

“I can be sealed with two hands or just one word, what am I?”

 

“Is this--are you asking me a riddle?”

 

Oswald did not keep the shock from his voice, maybe he’d made too quick a decision when deciding not to kill this man.

 

“Do you like riddles?”

 

The softness to Ed’s eyes returned, filling Oswald with a strange warmth he chose to ignore.

 

“No,” Oswald deadpanned.

 

“So d’you give up?”

 

“Edward pl-,” Oswald tried.

 

“A deal! I am agreeing to your deal, Mr. Penguin. I think I can be a great help to your business and I feel we share a lot of the same animosity towards these thick-skulled morons.”

 

   Ed narrowed his eyes at the empty space where the lab door was shut. Clearly his loyalties did not lie with his workplace and that was perfectly fine for Oswald, the man could build loyalties elsewhere. Oswald stuck a gloved hand out for the other man to shake, who then promptly accepted and placed his opposite hand around their clasped ones. It seemed personal space was going to be an issue with this one.

 

“Well Ed, it is a pleasure doing business with you, expect a call from me before the day is out,” Oswald noticed his smile came with unexpected ease that time.

 

   Ed nodded enthusiastically, quickly setting himself back in front of his various chemical concoctions. Oswald found it annoyingly endearing. The man turned to make his exit from Edward’s lab, a strange tingling sensation bloomed in Oswald’s palm where Ed had held it not thirty second before. The crackling warmth spread across and enveloped his entire hand before long. Oswald felt a foreign pull in his chest to uncover the source of concern but shook the ridiculous idea from his head, there was no way the feeling meant anything, must have imagined it. At least, that’s the mantra Oswald repeated to himself while making his quiet departure.


	4. Yes, Very Interesting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'know I thought of going one by one but I thought'd I'd give 4 to keep ya'll interested, promise to update a 5th this week though!

   Ed continued his ministrations, putting a fingerprint laden pistol here and a soiled pocket knife there, unable to ignore the intense heat spreading across his palms. The dangerously corrosive chemicals within inches of his hands made it a horribly stupid idea for Ed to even think about removing his gloves, he supposed the highly corrosive product must be the cause. Any other conclusion would be utterly preposterous. It was the acidic fumes and nothing to do with the contact between himself and Oswald, at least that’s what Ed insisted on repeating to himself until the idea seemed completely impossible. Which it was. Wasn’t it?

Ed shook his head furiously, trying the physically displace such idiotic thoughts from his mind.

 

 _‘God, you really are no different than those lovesick buffoons swarming Kristen’s desk every day,”_ His voice echoed in Ed’s skull, deeper and different enough from Ed’s own to be quite unsettling.

 

“Ms. Kringle. You do _not_ get to call her that. Besides, I am not lovesick, that is entirely ridiculous. I have only just met Oswald.”

 

Ed was grateful for the privacy of his lab, where the odds of someone catching him speaking to nobody were much lower.

 

 _‘We both know how much stock you put in that moronic soulmate drabble. Admit it, you want to peel those gloves back and peak beneath, see what Oswald does to you on the outside,’_ Ed’s other half chuckled darkly, _‘because we both know what delicious thoughts popped up on the inside.’_

 

“Enough!”

 

  Ed slammed his fists on the table, nearly upsetting three beakers. He felt his shoulders heave with the force of his breaths, trying to keep from doing anything too rash. Ed snapped his head to the visage next to him, a vision of himself, though this version was clad in a fitting green suit as opposed to Ed’s own collared shirt and lab coat. The personality leaned proudly against the table, pretending to be preoccupied with his own gloved fingertips. Ed cast a glance to his hands, the tingling feeling had long since disappeared, though Ed felt if he was going to see Oswald more, there would be plenty of time to prove his other self wrong.

 

_‘Sure, prove me wrong, whatever you need to tell yourself Eddie.’_

 

Ed wished there was a way to pluck the nuisance from his brain, endlessly fed up with His ability to read Ed’s own thoughts.

 

 _‘Our thoughts, genius,’_ the manifestation gestured exaggeratedly between the two of them, ‘ _we are one in the same, like it or not. I am here for a long time_ and _a good time, sweetheart.’_

 

His voice dripped with poison, it left a bitter taste in Ed’s mouth as if he had been the one who spoke.  

The harsh ring of Ed’s phone startled him from his mental volley with his worse half. Ed eyed the number with hesitation but flicked the phone open nonetheless and held it to his ear, certain he could still feel the phantom sensation of Oswald’s pistol just above it.

 

“Hello,” Edward answered with an unaffected tone.

 

“Edward,” the familiar voice echoed into the receiver, “I need you to begin reporting to me as soon as tonight, seeing as you are dealing with highly sensitive material of mine. I trust that won’t be a problem.”

 

Ed barely focused on the words.

 

“Oswald? How did you get my phone number?”

 

Ed looked around his lab as if the answer might be etched in its whitewashed walls.

 

“There are many things a man like me can get when he asks nicely, Edward. Tell me, will I have the pleasure of seeing you at the lounge tonight?”

 

 _‘He sure is laying it on thick, huh Eddie boy,”_ the alter chuckled.

 

Ed rolled his eyes and covered the receiver, “He is just being _polite_.”

 

‘ _Whatever floats your boat, Romeo.’_

 

Ed was thankful to look back and see an empty room where his other self had previously occupied.

 

“Edward?”

 

“Yes! Of course, Mr. Penguin. You can expect me tonight, I am nearly through.”

 

“Wonderful news, and Edward,” Oswald paused.

 

“Yes, sir?”

 

“Remember, it is Oswald to you now.”

 

Ed let a smile creep onto his face despite himself.

 

“Right, Oswald. See you tonight.”

 

Ed heard a soft laugh and the click of his new business partner hanging up the phone. If Edward continued his work with a cheerful whistle, that was between himself and the quiet of his isolated lab.

 

* * *

 

  Oswald found himself tapping an impatient foot against the floor of his office, the pace only serving to worsen his anxious state, and the especially prevalent pain in his bad leg certainly wasn’t helping. Ed was nearly five minutes late, and in Oswald’s business that could mean anything from impending betrayal to the unfortunate loss of yet another associate at the hands of some impish burglar. Neither were terribly beneficial to Oswald’s keeping this strange new friend around.

Just as Oswald planned to alert Mr.Penn and find this dopey scientist’s whereabouts, the very source of all his worries strolled into his office, gloved hands clutching some sort of paperwork. Oswald smiled in relief.

 

“Ah! Edward, I’m glad you found your way, I was beginning to worry.”

 

Ed returned a shy smile and looked anywhere but Oswald’s gaze, something insecure and frightened in his posture.

 

“Sorry to keep you waiting Oswald,” the man straightened up, posing much more indignant than insecure, “forgive me for saying, but your guards seem to have the combined intelligence of a sack of hammers.”

 

“Well, I certainly do not keep them around for their riveting conversational skills.”

 

Ed finally faced Oswald and let out an amused laugh. Oswald chose to ignore the sense of accomplishment he felt in his chest.

 

“Please, sit, make yourself comfortable. I would stand to greet you but I’m afraid my leg has been worse off than usual today.”

 

Oswald adjusted the ice pack he’d balanced on the twisted appendage with a grimace, hoping the cold would simply numb his pain until it was bearable to walk again. Ed strode closer to Oswald’s desk, shifting on his feet. Oswald frowned.

 

“Edward. You are making me uneasy, what’s wrong?”

 

“Well,” Ed huffed and placed himself right next to Oswald’s side behind the desk, a bold move the kingpin had to admit, “cold is the last thing you need for an injury of that nature. You will want warmth in combination with some kind of compression.”

 

Oswald crossed his arms over his chest, thoroughly annoyed with being told what to do, especially about a topic he knows plenty well.

 

“And what makes you such an expert?”

 

Ed sucked in a breath, clearly back on edge from the pointed tone Oswald used.

 

“I did take four years of human anatomy classes at Gotham University, sir,” Ed cast his eyes down to fiddle with the edges of his papers.

 

“And what miracle cure did you have in mind?” Oswald resigned with reluctance, he shot Ed an unimpressed look.

 

   Ed carefully placed the papers on the corner of Oswald’s desk, adjusting his glasses before slowly crouching to rest on his knees. Oswald felt the blush rush up his neck and explode onto his cheeks before he could even think of subduing it. He made sure to look anywhere that wasn’t Ed’s terribly suggestive positioning. Ed cautiously cuffed Oswald’s pant leg until the permanently discolored skin of his injured ankle was exposed, being attentive to the expensive and easily wrinkled material. Oswald was wholly unsure as to why he was letting a near perfect stranger lay hands on the most vulnerable part of his body, but surprised at how little he feared the gesture.

 

“Now Oswald, I promise I am not going to hurt you but do say something if the pressure is too much.”

 

Ed removed his gloves and placed them gingerly at his side, Oswald had to admire how it seemed that everything the man did was with a wary and calculated hand. As soon as Ed pressed his cupped hands around Oswald’s ankle, an intense warmth surrounded the wound, immediately feeling worlds away from the temporary numbness he’d always suffered through. It was unusually warm, Oswald knew the feeling was terribly familiar but couldn’t seem to place it.

 

* * *

 

   Ed hoped Oswald could not see his shaking hands as he went to remove his coveted gloves, like removing a layer of armor it was rare for him to go without them. Ed was surprised the man had let him come this far, a strange and unspoken trust between the two of them after so little time together was enthralling. Ed planned to prove his alter wrong, and if he eased any of Oswald’s pain in the meantime, that was simply a bonus.

Only, the second Ed placed his hands around Oswald Cobblepot’s ankle, the skin around it began to glow in the most brilliant emerald hue he had ever seen. Its warmth rivaled the feeling in Ed’s palms earlier that afternoon. Ed gasped softly despite himself, his eyes fixed to the heavenly light illuminating the other’s skin. So caught up in revelry, he hardly noticed Oswald shifting above him.

 

“You know Ed, I’m glad you were correct about this course of action, I am beginning to feel quite b-,” Oswald stopped short when he finally locked eyes with the scene at his feet.

 

  Ed felt he could hardly breathe, suffocated by the warmth creeping from his palms to the rest of his arms and up his shoulders. The combination of his revelation and Oswald’s sudden, shocked stare did nothing to ease the weight on Edward’s chest.

Ed tried his best to stutter out an apology but for the second time since meeting Oswald, his genius brain failed him. Any attempt at an intelligent response rendered useless by the endless barrage of thoughts swarming in his head. On his way to stand, Ed gripped the edge of the table, sending the papers he had brought for Oswald in all directions. He made a hasty exit in a flurry of letter paper and a thousand questions that hung in the air.

Ed’s legs burned by the time he got far enough from the lounge to feel safe from any large goons that may try to retrieve him. Finally with a second to breathe, Ed stared down at his hands, glowing with their own glorious tone, his was a bright shade of violet. One of The Penguin’s notable calling cards, etched so perfectly into Ed’s own skin. His chest heaved with the effort of his getaway and the tears threatening to spill over.

 _‘Told you,’_ echoed painfully around his head.

 

* * *

 


	5. Take It From The Top

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone curious: I'm thinking Saturdays are going to be update days!! this one's a little short but that's because I was afraid to make the chapters too long in the beginning, promise it won't stay that way for long, okay!! as always comments are appreciated and uHhhhh ya alright love u

    Oswald gripped the sides of his office chair with blanched knuckles, the green glow from his ankle ebbed and flowed like a pulse. A breath of life that created something so new and entirely terrifying to the man who had seen an innumerable amount of cruelty, which seemed like child’s play at that moment. Oswald could never remember a time he felt so sick seeing a grown man decapitated as he did witnessing the beginning of his end. Edward. Edward Nygma. This lanky, childish, and _infuriatingly_ charming scientist was his soulmate. Oswald had his fair share of hangover headaches but none could compare to the pain of the thoughts pulsating in his skull.  Everything from, ‘ _No, no. This must be a mistake, I must be dreaming,’_ to, ‘ _It would be simpler to rid of this problem before it becomes one, save this poor man the strife.’_

Oswald shut his eyes, the green slowly fading to leave the normally discolored skin in its’ wake. The proud cynic silently condemned the pathetic feeling of emptiness the glow left as its warmth slowly drained from him. In all his brooding, Oswald hardly noticed Barbara Kean saunter into the lounge.

 

“Now what’s got the big, bad Penguin in such a tizzy?” Her hands were on her hips, head cocked in a mocking display at Oswald’s current state.

 

Oswald sucked in a sharp breath and reluctantly turned to face the woman.

 

“Ah, Ms.Kean, always a pleasure,” Oswald’s words dripped with a heavy coating of sarcasm.

 

“Ozzie sweetheart, drop the _boring_ formalities,” she strode forward to lean over Oswald’s desk, “ever since you partnered with Tabby and I, it’s Barbara to you.”

 

    Oswald rubbed uselessly at his temples, remembering how begrudging his acceptance of Barbara’s deal was--she and Tabitha would run their silly little arms business in exchange for ceasing to try and blow Oswald’s various properties to pieces. On the surface it was simple, but nothing was ever _really_ simple with Barbara Kean as Oswald had come to learn. The scorned lover of Jim Gordon knew exactly how to find an open wound and shove her perfectly manicured finger into it, theoretically and when appropriate, quite literally. Oswald could feel the sharpened tip of an acrylic fingernail teasing at the surface of this particular wound.

 

“Barbara, I am afraid now is not such a good time, I am a very busy man.”

 

“Yeah? And I'm just twiddling my thumbs n' counting sheep, right?” she seated herself on Oswald's desk as if she had every right to it, “So why don’t you drop the bullshit and tell mama what’s really going on, huh?”

 

Oswald fumed internally at her arched brow, Barbara Kean was a notable gossip and the kingpin feared any information leaking about his new discovery. Fear for his safety, and somehow, mostly for Edward’s.

 

“Well if you must know, it is my leg. This dreadfully cold weather is doing nothing but damage for my-,” Oswald waved a hand in the air to represent an unspoken final word.

 

“Busted leg?” Barbara’s voice rang crudely. 

 

“Yes, Barbara,” Oswald sighed heavily, “ _that_.” 

 

Barbara shrugged, thoroughly unconvinced but unwilling to sit any longer in a conversation that wouldn’t be beneficial to her in some way. Though Oswald found himself irked by her relentless drive to steal the proverbial throne of Gotham, he did admire the woman’s endlessly selfish pursuits.

 

“Even though this has been _such_ fun, I’m afraid Tabby and I have a date with a cannon maker.”

 

“You have a _cannon maker_ on retainer?” Oswald was impressed.

 

Barbara smiled wickedly, putting one splayed hand dramatically in the air, “It’s Gotham sweetheart, we all have our little secrets. Ta-ta!”

 

Oswald pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes against the everlasting headache, made only more unbearable by Barbara Kean’s visit. He wasn’t sure he had to worry about potential enemies as a main threat, it seemed the universe was steadfast in destroying Oswald with its own cruel methods.

 

* * *

 

    Ed dragged himself into work the next day, locking the door to his lab should he receive any unwanted visitors. Any human interaction that day would be as such, especially the end of the night when Edward had to face the infamous criminal that had since been the subject of his inner torment. Ed entertained the idea of evading Oswald as long as possible, but if the man could obtain his phone number within a matter of hours, a home address would be child’s play.

Ed found himself merely going through the motions of his daily routine. His work, which was always a consuming and endlessly fascinating task seemed dwarfed by this new development. Oswald Cobblepot is his soulmate. A man known for countless atrocities and a reputation befitting his monarchical nickname was supposedly the love of Edward’s life. Not Kristen Kringle, and certainly not Lee Tompkins.

 

Oswald Cobblepot.

 

 _‘How terribly thrilling, don’t you think,’_ His piercing voice echoed behind Ed.

 

Ed quickly pressed his fingers to his eyes, hoping the sensation would deter his other half before He got too comfortable.

 

 _‘Not today Eddie boy, it’s my time to shine. You do_ not _get to run away from this the same way you run away from anything when the going gets tough. You are a child, plugging your ears and humming loudly until the big bad wolf disappears. Not this time.’_

 

“I am not a child,” Ed kept his hands pressed firmly into the steel desk, using every ounce of control he had to keep his voice steady.

 

 _‘Oh_ please _, think of how long we have wanted this. How many times you have stayed after hours, pouring over The Penguin’s dealings, the evidence against him, starving for any information you can get your grubby little hands on,’_ the figment seemed to dart over Ed’s right shoulder, moving in an impossible blur, _‘Admit it Edward, he excites you. He is everything you aren’t and you are quietly hoping he can change you, turn you into what we both know you can become.’_

 

Ed struggled to keep track of the visage, its constant movement in and out of focus straining his vision. His head felt ready to split open, all of his horrible thoughts threatened to stain the floor, capable of dissolving the tile as easily as the nitric acid had done. Ed could hardly formulate a response to the personality’s taunting, keeping his hands firmly on either side of his skull to stop it from cracking.

 

“No, no, no! That is not true, it’s not true. Shut up. Shut UP,” Ed practically screamed at the apparition.

 

The other half gave a pitying chuckle, _‘You call yourself a genius but you are the biggest fool I have ever met. I am you, dummy. Try and deny it all you want but I am everything you are too afraid to admit to yourself, everything you are too cowardly to face.’_

 

“Please, please do not call me foolish, I hate that. You know I hate that,” Ed pleaded with himself.

 

_‘Of course I know that. Not sure Oswald thinks so, about you being foolish, of course. And you know it too."_

 

Ed kept quiet, eyes fixed on the shuddering image of himself leaning against a cabinet of scientific instruments.

 

 _‘I know that you do. You’ve seen the way Oswald looks at us, how quickly we were able to gain his trust, how_ desperate _he is for our attention. Just think of what we can become with his guiding hand. But then again, you’ve already imagined more than just the guid-’_

 

“Enough.” Ed resigned and hung his head in a silent defeat, bested by the worst of his own mind. “Just, enough.”

 

_‘Honestly you are never any fun when you give up so quick like that, doesn’t the figment of a raving madman’s imagination deserve a little entertainment every now and then?’_

 

Ed looked up from the unimpressive spot on his trousers to the poisonous smile on His face, “I suppose you’re correct, why not have a little _fun_?”


	6. Shall We Get To Work?

    Oswald was more than surprised to hear the sound of Edward’s voice echo in his office after the previous day’s incident, content to resign himself to the familiar and lonely days he knew so well. And yet, there he stood, the lithe scientist with documents in hand and a warm smile on his face. It sent a sharp stab of disappointment through Oswald’s chest, he supposed the man would act as if nothing had happened, the two would continue on with business as promised. It was something the kingpin supposed he deserved, men in his line of work hardly received a fairy tale ending. 

 

“Good evening, Oswald,” Ed punctuated with a smile that made Oswald’s heart leap into his throat. 

 

“Good evening, Edward,” Oswald cursed the falter in his voice, wholly unprepared for how nervous he felt. 

 

Men like Oswald didn’t  _ get  _ nervous, they made others as such, struck fear into the hearts of brutal killers. And yet, the notorious criminal felt like a lovestruck grade schooler, all because a strange forensic analyst flashed some teeth. 

 

“I reprinted the documents I meant to deliver yesterday, before I practically destroyed them in my,” Ed cleared the uncomfortable lump in his throat, “haste.” 

 

Oswald felt a horrid redness creep to his cheeks at the mention of yesterday’s antics. 

 

“Well I do appreciate that Edward, I have to say I am surprised to see you here after the  _ events _ that transpired.” 

 

Oswald immediately kicked himself for dwelling on the topic. 

 

“After discovering we are preappointed soulmates.” Edward stated it like fact, as if he were completely unaffected by the consequences. Oswald supposed that was entirely possible. 

 

“Yes, Ed. After discovering...that.” 

 

Ed placed the papers on the desk, quickly stepping away and keeping his hands clasped behind his back. Oswald noticed the way Ed’s eyes volleyed off the surrounding decor, looking anywhere but the kingpin’s own face. Of course Oswald was used to that type of behavior, welcomed it even, but coming from Ed it just seemed horribly wrong. 

 

“Edward.”

 

“Yes, Oswald?” The man’s expression was terribly kind. 

 

“I want you to know Ed, my space is yours. I am sure you are aware how different you are from the useless thugs that drag themselves through here every day,” Oswald looked around the room in distaste, as if the essence of said thugs had seeped into his upholstery, “I would like to make your comfort my priority.” 

 

The same shade of scarlet Oswald had noticed in the evidence room painted itself on Edward’s cheeks, finally the man understood why the sight struck him the first time. 

 

Ed gave a nervous, and Oswald was certain it was nervous, laugh, “I appreciate that Oswald. I cannot think of a time someone has treated me so kindly.” 

 

Ed lowered his head in thought, his smile faltering and his eyes adopting a quiet sadness for an unbearable second before settling back in a content expression to finally face Oswald. 

 

Oswald flashed an equally unsure smile, “If I’m not mistaken, I suppose we are predestined to treat each other with kindness.” 

 

    Joking was not Oswald’s strong suit and he never saw a reason to step on a certain, fellow criminal’s toes, but the laugh it pulled from Edward was well worth the discomfort of uncharted territory. The idea of how quickly Oswald had attached to his new companion seemed absurd. The soulmate lore was always incredibly impractical to the famously pragmatic man, just an idiotic story to tell hopeful children who would defy their bedtimes otherwise, and yet Oswald found himself incredibly taken with the enigmatic man that stood before him. Though, a physical confirmation of the their interconnection did nothing to soothe the worries Oswald felt at what the other could possibly feel about being stuck with such damaged goods. 

 

* * *

 

‘ _ God, are you aware of how pathetic you sound? You are stuttering like some common idiot. No telling what blind fate thought to stick that poor sap with an even poorer one.’  _

 

    His words were corrosive behind Ed’s eyes, they burned in all their truth. He was painfully aware of what Oswald deserved, someone strong and endlessly capable. Sure, Ed was smart and possessed a smattering of begrudging connections in his position at the GCPD, but what could that possibly mean to the man who possessed an entire kingdom? A man who sat as the renowned King of Gotham, who boasted power Ed could only dream about.  Ed hesitantly brought up a high-backed chair to sit in front of his new companion, unsure of how comfortable to make himself in most normal situations, ever more clueless about the proper etiquette of how to approach one’s soulmate. He carefully placed the re-printed documents on Oswald’s desk, sliding them closer to the man with an ungloved finger. Oswald’s eyes bore into Edward with an unfamiliar feeling, one even his brilliant mind could not place and Ed felt himself becoming quite tired of his social ineptitude. 

 

“Shall we get to work?” Ed posed the question in hopes of refocusing on his area of expertise. 

 

Oswald smiled weakly, a sign of fatigue or an underlying emotion, Ed couldn’t tell but he hoped his good news would get the proud man back into sorts. 

 

“Well, you will be happy to hear I have successfully destroyed all of the evidence that could implicate you in any crime you’ve committed since they even began keeping tabs on you,” Ed smiled with each word, terribly proud of the work he’d done. 

 

“And I suppose you still mean corroded into unrecognizable scraps of material?” 

 

Ed felt his smile curl into a terribly mischievous grin, “Actually, I took your hints and performed some further--let’s call them, creative liberties--and mixed a concoction that would rid you of that pesky papertrail.”

 

“By ‘my hints’ I suppose you are referring to my threat on your life,” Oswald gave a breathy laugh at the memory. 

 

“Precisely. What’s nowhere, but everywhere, except where something is?” 

 

“Ed, we’ve been through this--really I cannot keep up with these riddles.” 

 

“But don’t you want to know what’s become of your evidence?”

 

Oswald sighed noncommittally and paused to think, Edward was thrilled to see the notorious Penguin attempting to solve one of his riddles, how many nights he dreamed of the day he could finally prove himself to this man.

 

‘ _ Not the only thing you dreamed of when it comes to Penguin, isn’t that right Eddie?’ _

 

Ed shook his head short and quick to avoid dwelling on the unwelcomed voice, that uselessly annoying apparition was not going to spoil Ed’s fun.  

 

“Nothing.” 

 

“Pardon me?” Ed felt his cheeks warm up in the embarrassment of his wandering thoughts. 

 

“Nothing, the answer to your riddle is nothing,” Oswald beamed with pride. 

 

The man had come around to where Ed was sitting, cane resting on the edge of the desk while Oswald stood with his arms crossed in a triumphant posture. 

 

Ed felt his eyes widen, no one had ever really tried to solve his riddles before, they were only ever met with a sideways glance at best and a bloodied nose at worst. 

 

“Yes, yes that is correct,” Ed felt the muscles in his face ache with the smile that seemed permanently etched into his jaw. 

 

    Ed was completely unfamiliar with the joy he felt in his chest, too enthralled by the prospect of his newfound friendship with Oswald to think about his body lurching forward and wrapping the other man in a tight embrace. The moment Ed felt Oswald’s body stiffen, the fog of elation cleared and he forced himself to back away, nearly stumbling over the chair in an almost identical display to yesterday’s fumbling. The images of Jim Gordon’s clear distaste at his touch, of Ms. Kringle shrinking away anytime Ed leaned forward to understand the deeper notes of her new shampoo, Edward was terrified how a more violent man might respond to the unwanted physicality. 

 

“Oswald, I am  _ so _ sorry,” Ed took one more step back, putting up his hands to create an even greater distance between the two of them, “please understand that I never meant to intentionally disrespect your personal space I simply--”

 

Ed was surprised to see Oswald match his steps backward, catching up and taking Ed’s ungloved hands into his own. The shock of what Ed feared he’d done overshadowed the beautiful purple hue that had appeared when he touched Oswald, the increasingly familiar shade of emerald green glowing in the same way over Oswald’s skin. Ed analyzed the way Oswald turned his hands over, inspecting the radiant anomaly on both men. The way their warmth mixed so perfectly together, Ed wondered if it blanketed Oswald’s body the way it did his. 

 

“Fantastic,” Oswald whispered under his breath. 

 

The striking blue of the other’s eyes met Ed’s own, moving impossibly closer to him until Oswald was once again wrapped in Ed’s embrace. Ed was wary to reciprocate, knowing a healthy sense of doubt around a notorious criminal was key to self-preservation. But in all of his ignorance of social cues, there was no detectable malice in Oswald’s movements. 

 

“Oh  _ dear _ ,” Ed breathed into the feathery locks under his chin. 

 

Oswald hummed in understanding, the two men terribly aware that neither was too experienced in matters of such an intimate nature.

 

Ed heard a scoff, a familiar hallucination scanned the scene in front of him, _ ‘Wow, that is sad. This is how you both react to a damn  _ hug?  _ This is going to be some painfully awkward sex.’  _

 

“Quiet.” Ed hissed at the reflection of himself

 

He did his best to scowl at the visage but was unwilling to take too much focus off of the way Oswald’s smaller frame slotted perfectly against his own. 

 

* * *

    Oswald heard his new friend hiss a terribly angry command of silence, though the crime lord couldn’t be sure who or what the man was speaking to, an unsettling realization to say the least.

 

“But Edward,” Oswald gave a nervous laugh, “I didn’t speak.”

 

It was quite similar to the time Oswald  had sworn Edward ordered him to shut up during their initial encounter. Neither time could he be certain of what had caused the disturbance. Ed pulled from their entanglement, a look of clear embarrassment plastered on his face. 

 

“Yes, I suppose that’s true, that is troublesome. Shall we proceed to the paperwork?”

 

The man seemed incredibly anxious to change the subject and Oswald was nothing if not a gracious host, and for his apparent soulmate he supposed they could save the conversation for much later in their partnership. Oswald reminded himself to stay vigilant, though it was an endeavor more easily said than done with such a striking distraction. Listening to the process of solubility may have been much easier for Oswald had the lecturer not been so handsome. 


	7. You and I--and Him

It was a few months of working with Edward before Oswald thought to readdress the man’s various, _ idiosyncrasies _ . It was nothing that posed a threat to the seasoned criminal, a man who could smell danger before it even crossed the Gotham city lines, that much was certain. It was simply troubling how often Oswald caught his new companion whispering angrily at thin air, staring unimpressed or rolling his eyes at his own reflection, and even snapping his head as if someone were speaking right next him. 

Oswald looked up from his desk, content to watch Edward focused on the task in front of him, documents of their professional relationship and frantically scribbled notes  spread over his own desk. Of course the man deserved his own space, as much as Oswald was happy to keep a close proximity, sometimes the chaos of Ed’s genius was much too distressing.  Oswald found he needed to summon a fair amount of courage to bring up the delicate topic, Edward could be a sensitive creature to deal with when broaching more personal subjects. 

 

“Edward?”

 

The man looked up from his work with a warm smile on his face, always he greeted Oswald with that same tenderness. For the way he had witnessed the cold and calculated way Ed dealt with lesser criminals, it made Oswald’s chest tighten to see a kindness special to their interactions. 

 

“Yes, Oswald?”

 

His chest constricted painfully. 

 

“Ed, I just wanted to address a concern I’ve had these past couple of weeks,” Oswald cleared his throat, hoping to dislodge the discomfort in his voice. 

 

Dark brows knitted together over Ed’s deeply hypnotizing brown eyes, “Is this something I need to take care of, has someone been threatening you or giving you trouble? I know that endlessly annoying Jeremiah Valeska has been making the rounds recently and I--” 

 

“Edward! Please, I promise I am not in any danger. This happens to be a concern I have about you, more so about your well being.” 

 

Ed let the papers in his hands carefully slip to the desk. 

 

“What kind of ‘concern’?” Ed seemed increasingly suspicious.

 

“Well,” Oswald steeled himself with a concentrated breath, “I’ve noticed some behaviors of yours that have me worried about you. Now, I’m not sure you are aware of them but they are troubling nonetheless. I promise this is not an attempt to shame you Edward, merely my trying to gain an understanding so we can be completely open in our partnership.”

 

“Spit it out, Oswald.”

 

He finally brought himself to lock eyes with Edward.

 

“I have noticed you speaking angrily to empty space as if there were someone occupying it, like you may be seeing something that I cannot. Is that an unfair assumption to make, Edward?” 

 

Ed sat hauntingly still in his chair, palms flush with the desktop, clear apprehension twisted into every muscle of his body visible through a slim fitting suit. 

 

“No. I can’t say that is an unfair assumption to make.” Ed kept his voice even and short. 

 

“Do you--see things, Ed?” 

 

The man kept his lips pressed tight together, merely giving an almost undetectable nod, easy enough to miss. But Oswald liked to think he had grown to understand Ed’s unusual body language in the short time they had known each other. Oswald returned the minuscule nod, sure he had wanted the breach the topic but he’d hardly given thought as to what he’d want out of it. In the couple of months the man had been in his employ, and in the very few days they had discovered their interconnection, Oswald learned that touch was a way Edward preferred to communicate on the rare occasions when words failed him. 

Oswald stood and made a slow, calculated journey over to his friend’s desk, placing a hand on the other’s exposed wrist, as they’d seen it necessary to forgo gloves in each other’s presence. 

 

“Edward. I want you to know this does nothing to change my feelings toward you,” Oswald smiled contented at the vibrant violet glowing under his palm, the small hints of emerald creeping around his hand the longer he kept in contact with Ed, “I merely wish to help ease your burden.” 

 

Ed closed his eyes against Oswald’s stare. 

 

“You say that now but once I let you see Him, I know you’ll leave. They always leave.” Ed quickly removed his hand from under Oswald’s, turning slightly away from him. 

“Ed, look at me,” Oswald pleaded, bringing a cautious hand to the other’s cheek and gently guiding until brown eyes made contact with his own, “who is He? Is this who I see you speaking with?” 

 

Ed nodded quietly and pressed his cheek harder against Oswald’s palm. The purple hue spread over his skin and so finely complimented those damned eyes that drove Oswald wild. 

 

“And are you in any danger when you speak to Him?” 

 

This time he nodded in dissent. 

 

“Not thus far,” Ed said solemnly. 

 

“What does it-- _ He _ \--look like?” Oswald was much farther out of his comfort zone than he’d ever imagined himself, too worried about upsetting Edward to refer to this hallucination in any way that could be disrespectful. 

 

“He is me and somehow not--all at the same time,” Ed whispered.

 

“What do you mean by that, Ed?”

 

Ed pushed the hand away from his face, standing abruptly and turning his back to Oswald, arms wrapped defensively around himself. 

 

“I  _ mean,  _ he appears in my image, Oswald. But he is somehow everything I am  _ not. _ He is clever and cunning, He digs into every recess of my mind--every nasty thought, every terrible impulse--He is there. He knows things about me that I can’t claim to understand, desires I have that only make sense when he’s in control. I try not to let him get out but  _ god,  _ Oswald sometimes he is just so strong.”   
  


The room was silent for a moment.

 

“That day in your office, when I held my pistol to your head and you went from this sniveling lab rat to some kind of calculated machine. That was him.”

 

It wasn’t a question, it didn’t need to be. 

 

Oswald reached a hesitant hand to Ed’s trembling shoulders. It seemed that if he touched his companion it might upset the man and if he did not, it would be as if Oswald was too scared of Ed to do so. The action was a double-edged sword, and very well sharpened. Oswald resolved to simply press his cheek against Ed’s back, hands at his side, giving the other a choice to move if the action were unwanted. He reveled in the warmth of Ed’s skin through the suit fabric, imagining how that coveted violet glow must be expanding to encompass the pale skin surrounding it. 

 

* * *

Ed relished the grounding sensation of Oswald’s cheek pressed against his shoulder blades, he imagined the emerald brilliance of his skin must be a beautiful compliment against icy blue eyes. It was a bittersweet feeling, the impending dread of how Oswald must see him now that the secret was out, stifled by how badly Edward wanted to enjoy that present moment. Too soon Oswald’s warmth was pulled away. Ed was desperate to tear apart the fabric of his own suit just to get a glimpse of the fleeting violet hue he knew was resting beneath the material. But he stayed still, awaiting the inevitable pain of a goodbye. Ed wasn’t allowed to have good things, and this was as good as it got.

 

“Edward. Will you turn so I can look at you?”

 

So Oswald wanted to look Ed in the eyes when he kicked him out, it was undeniably admirable. Ed turned, a condemned man to face his executioner. 

 

“Ed, I want you to have complete certainty that I am not afraid of what you’ve disclosed today. Knowing what you must go through, I am somehow in greater awe of you than when we first met.” 

 

Ed felt a burning blush explode across his cheeks, the words of praise were wholly unexpected. Kindness replaced fear and mockery. A good thing, much too good. 

 

“Y-You’re mocking me,” Ed stuttered. 

 

Oswald looked hurt, “Edward, I would never--how--what would make you say such a thing?” 

 

“Everyone before you. I do not get to  _ have  _ good things Oswald, and you are quite literally the greatest opportunity for happiness I will ever know. He is well aware of that.” 

 

A stern look replaced the hurt on Oswald’s face, his open mouth sealed by decisively tight lips. 

 

“Then we defy Him.” 

 

Ed knit his brows together in clear confusion, the feeling became increasingly familiar the more time he spent around such an unpredictable man. 

 

“Edward, He cannot take this from you, I won’t let Him.”

 

“Oswald, He is a figment of my imagination, an ugly thought I cannot control. How in the world do you propose to  _ stop _ a hallu--”

 

“I want us to be together.” 

 

“Wha--”

 

“Whatever that means for you, whatever you want from me, I will happily give it to you.” 

 

Ed felt a tightness lodge itself in his chest, he took a step forward and stuck a pointed finger in Oswald’s face.

 

“Do  _ not  _ make fun of me. I am not going to accept your offer of  _ pity _ just because you feel sorry for me. Poor Ed, who can’t even have a relationship unless it’s out of some kind of--of charity! No. I will not have it.” Ed’s chest heaved with the weight of his humiliation. 

 

Oswald’s face fell, melting into an expression that Ed couldn’t place, only serving worsen his mounting frustration. Why must it be so hard to read someone? Why did he have to be so inept at understanding others?  _ Why _ \--

Ed was ripped from his own thoughts at the feeling of Oswald’s hand wrapping around the one Ed pointed in his face. He wasn’t sure whether he wished to jerk away or move closer, so he stayed put and awaited Oswald’s rebuttal. Only, it seemed the man had no more words, resigned to sliding his free hand to Edward’s cheek once more. The violet hues intertwined with emerald, no two colors capable of complimenting each other so beautifully as theirs. Oswald’s kind smile, the fine lines that appeared around his eyes when he looked at Edward, it was suffocating. A stifling summer wind enveloping and warming every inch of Ed’s skin, seeping into his bones. It was a silent assurance, something magnificent that needn’t any verbal explanation. Oswald wasn’t mocking him, he wasn’t trying to embarrass him like any other person would have done. This was understanding, it was comfort.

 

It was good. 

 

Ed leaned forward until his forehead rested against Oswald’s, the hand pressed to his cheek moved to sit easily at the nape of Ed’s neck. The two closed their eyes against the blinding lights that appeared wherever contact was made, a sight too precious for human eyes. Ed nodded quietly, an answer to the question Oswald had no need to vocalize. Yes, he did believe Oswald. This was good, and it was his. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When she said slow burn, she meant slow burn ya'll 
> 
> tumblr: spookedfoxmulder
> 
> twitter: edbirdnygma


	8. Two Names To A Face

   Oswald’s days passed quietly in the time before Edward reported from his day job, of which Oswald was endlessly thankful for the man agreeing to work double shifts every day. Though, when they were together everything felt less like work and more like a daydream, sick as it may have made the cynical kingpin to say a handful of months ago. In the privacy of his office, Oswald felt safe to let his affections be known. Brushing of hands, a quiet reverent stare from either desk, and even the times when Oswald ordered his cronies to stand guard for some made up threat just so the two men might get a moment to simply hold the other after a particularly stressful week. It made Oswald’s chest ache to think of their relationship being confined to the, albeit stylish, walls of the Iceberg Lounge. Ed still worked for the GCPD and if either man wanted to keep themselves on the right side of the steel bars at Blackgate, they were wise to keep their interconnection a secret. 

 

“Oh good, you’re not busy,” Barbara’s voice echoed off the vaulted lounge ceiling. 

 

Large men baring guns used to mean something in Gotham, clearly that meaning was lost on Barbara Kean. Oswald lowered the third weapons request from a low-level narrows gang, as if they were going to wear him down by wasting a few sheets of paper. Lazy work. Patience is a virtue and Oswald was a notoriously virtuous man, in his own skewed sense of the phrase. 

 

“Barbara, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Oswald plastered an almost-amiable smile across his face. 

 

“The old school manners are charming Ozzie, real cute. But unfortunately I didn’t come here to discuss etiquette,” her forged grin dropped easily into a frown. 

 

“Praytell, what  _ did _ you come to discuss, Ms. Kean?” 

 

Barbara crossed her arms over the rather plunging neckline of her pantsuit, professional and deadly all at the same time, her slicked hair giving off a severely powerful look. The more Oswald worked with Barbara Kean the more he learned to admire her quick tongue and selfish pursuits. 

 

“We’ve got a little problem, let’s call it trouble in paradise. Selena Kyle, the clever kitty cat has been keeping an ear to the ground for Tabby and I and it seems she caught wind of a new friend squatting in your territory-- _ our _ selling grounds.” 

 

Oswald scoffed in disbelief, “And who is this delusional soul that thinks they can get away with crossing into  _ my  _ territory, threatening  _ my _ business ventures?” 

 

Before Barbara could enlighten Oswald, Ed came strolling into the Iceberg Lounge, usual stack of documents in hand with the addition of a translucent paper baggy like one they’d use in a coffee shop. 

 

“Excuse the delay, I wanted to pick up your favorite danish from the cafe around the corner but the shop was backed up with overworked college students pouring over material they should have memorized weeks ago. No telling how many of the poor fools are going to fail their--Oh, dear. Hello.” Ed stared wide-eyed at Barbara.

 

She waved delicate fingers at Edward, tongue running over her teeth in a predatory smile. 

 

“Hello,” Barbara pulled the ‘o’ of her syrupy greeting out far too long for Oswald’s nerves.  

 

Oswald quickly stood from his seat at the bar, stepping between the two to play social referee for the introduction. 

 

“Barbara Kean,” he gestured between the pair, “meet Edward Nygma. And Edward, meet Barbara Kean.” 

 

Ed took a hesitant step forward, carefully balancing his papers and pastry in one arm to extend the other in greeting. 

 

“Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Kean.” Ed’s smile was terribly polite for the company Oswald kept. 

 

Barbara sauntered forward, each step she took drawn out and heavy with the click of her heels against the tiled floor. To bystanders she may have appeared to be admiring Edward’s features, but Oswald knew the woman too well to be so easily fooled. No, she was sizing Ed up, calculating how quickly she might take him down should the opportunity arise. She took Edward’s hand, pulling abruptly to get a closer look at her prey. 

 

“Oswald, you never told me you kept such handsome help around here,” she inhaled deeply, “and this one’s new. Fresh meat, yes?” 

 

Oswald pursed his lips, he usually found it terribly endearing how easily Edward was made nervous but suddenly it wasn’t so funny this time around. 

 

“Barbara, play nice. Edward is a friend, who happens to assist me when I need it.” Oswald kept his tone sharp. 

 

The woman raised a well maintained eyebrow. 

 

“I see, a little playmate for The Penguin when he gets bored. Hey, we all have our dirty little secrets,” Barbara shot Oswald an accusatory glare over her shoulder. 

 

“Enough!” Oswald drove his cane into the floor, the crack of it making an already on-edge Edward jolt in surprise. “Ms. Kean, if you are  _ quite _ through making wildly inappropriate suggestions and terrorizing Edward, I suggest you leave.” 

 

Barbara held her hands up in defense, easing away from the tense Edward. 

 

“Sheesh, I was only having a little fun. Papa Penguin sure is cranky today, huh Eddie?” She turned her attention to Edward, who was frozen to his spot, a faint blush over his cheeks the only sign of life to be found.

 

“Anyways, I still think you oughta know who’s causing these problems in our wicked little town.” 

 

Oswald waved a hand for Barbara to go on, knowing the quicker she finished the sooner she’d leave, allowing Oswald the alone time with Edward he so desperately wanted. Ed finally broke his frightened trance at Barbara’s words. 

 

“Actually Oswald, I’m afraid I also come bearing information about disturbances in your various establishments around Gotham.”

 

Barbara volleyed an impressed look from Edward to the irate Oswald, now leaning heavy on the bar and pouring an expensive Bordeaux into his maddeningly empty glass, “Cute and brainy? You sure know how to pick ‘em, Ozzie.” 

 

“Barbara! This terribly important news you so desperately need me to hear, please.” 

 

“So get this, that Valeska kid whose face was plastered on every paper a few weeks back? Well, guess he had a twin that went nuts and is trying his best to blow Gotham back to the stone age. Says he has to fulfill some kind of ‘artistic vision,’ or some shit like that. Whatever it is, it’s bad for business. So I expect you to go in there, guns a-blazin’ and stop the little twerp before he puts us all on the street.” 

 

Oswald pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes against a mounting migraine. 

 

“And Edward, while we are delivering bad news, what information did you have?” Oswald let out a tired sigh. Heavy is the head that wears the crown. 

 

“Much of the same, though I have more details than Ms. Kean so  _ eloquently  _ stated. It has been confirmed that in the wake of Jerome Valeska’s death, he left a gift in his twin brother’s home--an elaborate, underground maze the likes of which I’ve never seen. Truly, Oswald you have to see these blueprints they are spectacular--a weapon concealed in a children’s toy which released a noxious gas that triggered Jeremiah's personality change.”  

 

Oswald beamed at the rambling man, using the support of his cane to cross in front of Barbara and next to Ed. 

 

“Edward, I do admire your attention to detail,” he turned to Barbara as if just remembering she was there, “and Ms. Kean, I appreciate your bringing this to my attention. It certainly is troubling for a newcomer to think he can waltz in here and destroy what has been painstaking progress for me--”

 

Barbara gave a threatening cough. 

 

“--for  _ us,  _ and I plan on making that fact very clear to our new friend.” 

 

   Oswald gripped Edward’s shoulder, a reflex at that point in their relationship. What Oswald failed to remember was his missing gloves, though not uncommon in their comfortable routine, such a deceptively easy slip-up made for dangerous dealings when outsiders were involved. Before either man could break contact, the painfully obvious glow of emerald covered Oswald’s hand, a beacon that professed to any witness exactly where his weaknesses lie. And Barbara Kean happened to be that unfortunate witness. 

Oswald rushed to shove his hand in his jacket, but the damage had been done and there was no denying the scene in front of them. An annoyingly conspiratory smirk pulled at the corners of Barbara’s mouth, everything in her demeanor instantly switched as a silent message to Oswald that all the cards now lie in her deck. 

 

“Oh, Ozzie,” she taunted, once again hissing her words like a snake ready to strike, “how rude not to introduce Edward by his correct title. Not just an assistant, not even just a friend, but the missing piece to your puzzle. Your very own  _ soulmate _ .” 

 

Barbara bounced her threatening stare off either stricken man, balled fists perched high on her hips in a commanding stance. 

 

“I think I should go--,” Edward began.

 

“No, Ed. This space is as much your own as it is mine, it seems Ms. Kean here is the one who has overstayed her welcome. Now, can you find your way out or should I ask my men to escort you to the door, Barbara?” Oswald narrowed his eyes, attempting to regain the ground he lost. 

 

Barbara sneered at the two men, “I can find my way, thank you  _ very  _ much.”

 

The sound of heels echoed loudly in the painfully quiet lounge, neither Oswald nor Ed quite ready to move from their stunned position.

 

“And boys, before I go,” Barbara turned slowly to speak over her shoulder, ever the performer, “I do hope you two lovebirds can keep the romance underwraps, never telling what little birdies might sing.  À bientôt .” 

 

* * *

 

   It wasn’t until the lounge doors closed that Ed felt safe to release his breath, giving no thought to the oxygen deprivation he experienced. He was sure Ms.Kean could still sense his fear even in her absence, likely hear the sound of his heart pumping faster than he thought possible. Faster than what was healthy, that much he was certain. 

 

‘ _ I like her.’  _

 

Ed shot a poisonous glare at the apparition that formed behind Oswald, thankfully the other man was too preoccupied by Barbara Kean’s exit to notice. 

 

‘ _ She terrifies you, not that it’s a hard job to do. Sweet little Ed, scared of his own shadow,’  _ He mocked

 

“Be  _ quiet _ . I am not--that,” Ed said through clenched teeth, refusing to repeat such a childish taunt. 

 

Ed was surprised by the warmth of Oswald’s hands gently covering his balled fists, the colors mixing to soothe. The look of concern on his partner’s face broke Ed out of his absorption. He reached up to smooth Oswald’s knitted brows, fixated on the virescent trail that followed his thumb. 

 

“Edward, is--is He here?” Oswald’s eyes bounced off the lounge decor, as if he could place any hope in seeing the figment of Ed’s own imagination. 

 

Ed nodded, flicking his eyes to where He was gloating behind Oswald. The man fixed his gaze on what seemed like nothing. But Edward could see Him, leaning haughty against the bar, as if He had any right to touch any of Oswald’s property. 

 

“He’s mocking me, telling me I am a coward because of the way I froze in front of Ms. Kean.” 

 

‘ _ God, she treated you like a zoo exhibit and you still stick to the formalities. I have mentioned you’re terribly pathetic, right?’  _

 

Ed shut his eyes so tight he felt his head ache, as if distorting the image of Him would do anything to quell the abuse. 

 

“Please stop, please just go  _ away _ ,” Ed begged, shoulders slumping in heavy defeat. 

 

_ ‘How many years has it been just us, Eddie? Are you really so stupid you can’t remember that I’m here to stay sweetheart--unless you let me win. Let me take over and all of this,’  _ He gestured to Ed’s distressed state,  _ ‘can disappear.’ _

 

   Ed felt a heat surge in his chest, all the taunting, the insults, the disrespect from his own mind. He lunged at the apparition, throwing his fist into a wall of glasses perched on the bar’s counter. Ed saw nothing but white in the corners of his eyes, bringing his fist down over and over on the solid wood, unaware of what exactly he was saying though he knew it must have been nonsense. The anger being taken out on innocent dishware eclipsed the stinging pain of the glass embedding itself in Ed’s hand, He was pleased as ever, tucked back into the corner of Ed’s mind and encouraging every step of the way.

 

‘ _ Atta boy Eddie, let it all go, let me have a turn now.’  _

 

Ed thought his skull might splinter with the pressure of his worse half trying to take over. If he could just rest for awhile, let Him have control then maybe things would be better. A break sounded so inviting, so well deserved. 

The sound of a high pitched screech broke Ed from his thoughts, fist slowing as if someone finally cut the power to a motor in danger of overheating. Ed turned to see Oswald’s face a bright shade of red, his shoulders heaving with the effort of his breathing, a familiar vein straining on the side of his neck. For all the struggle Ed saw in his partner’s face, seeing the man mouth what he supposed was his name, the only sound he heard was like feedback from a microphone. The darkness at the corners of his vision was uncontrollable despite the violence with which Ed shook his head in attempt to clear it away. If he focused hard enough, Ed swore he could feel his throat tear with a scream he couldn’t hear over the incessant static.

 

* * *

   

   Oswald felt utterly helpless watching Ed clutch the bar’s counter, his screams tore at every muscle in Oswald’s chest. All he could do was yell Ed’s name, hope that he could get through whatever nightmare was unfolding in front of him. Oswald lunged forward, praying to whatever higher power that his touch could soothe Ed as it had in the past. Ed’s shoulders fell forward and Oswald feared the man may pass out, though worse injury seemed impossible when he looked at the state of Edward’s mangled hand, his trance finally allowing the man to get closer. Oswald carefully approached his partner, unsure of what consequences the episode might have held.

 

“Ed? Edward, can you hear me?” Oswald cooed. 

 

Nothing. Only the sound of heavy breathing. Though, Oswald didn’t care to tell if it was his own or the other’s. 

 

“Edward, can you manage to stand up straight? I think you need to see someone, get some help,  _ something _ ,” Oswald pleaded. 

 

The sound of a soft chuckling caught Oswald off guard. Edward was a peculiar man to be certain, but laughing after such a serious fit seemed too out of character. Oswald felt his skin prickle, a warning for a threat he couldn’t see, something was obviously very wrong. 

 

“Edward Nygma you’re scaring me,” Oswald huffed, he didn’t see anything terribly comedic about his worry, “look at me, Ed.”

 

Oswald reached out to Ed’s shoulder when the man’s hand quickly shot out to grab his wrist, the grip rather painful and terribly unlike Edward. Finally he looked at Oswald, and it was painfully obvious why the famously unshakable man felt so uneasy. This wasn’t Ed, not  _ his  _ Ed. Every bit of warmth was drained from those soft brown eyes, glazed over with a horribly piercing cold. His toothy grin suddenly transformed from its welcoming curiosity to a predatory grimace. 

 

“Terribly sorry, Eddie’s out, but I can certainly take a message,” He purred. 

 

Oswald tried to wrench his wrist from Not-Ed’s grip, but the sinewy scientist had more strength than his lithe body let on. His body, Ed’s body, not  _ His  _ body.

 

“Where is Ed? I DEMAND you vacate whatever--premises, you are inhabiting at once!” Oswald did his best to keep his voice level, concerned about letting the other catch onto his fear. 

 

Not-Ed swiped his tongue across his teeth, staring past Oswald as if deep in thought. The devilish smile reset itself much too quickly for Oswald’s liking. 

 

“Hm, ‘fraid that’s not gonna happen sweetheart. Eddie was wasting too much precious time fawning and flirting when  _ I  _ could be doing real work,  _ great  _ work.” 

 

He jerked Oswald’s wrist closer to Him, getting much too close for Oswald’s liking. This was not Ed, and He had no right to act as such. 

 

Not-Ed grazed his lips over the shell of Oswald’s ear, “Though I can’t say I blame him, you are a fascinating creature.” 

 

Oswald closed his eyes, cursing the chill he felt race down his spine.  _ Not Ed, not Ed, not Ed.  _ Oswald used the distraction to break himself out of the painful grip, rubbing at the red mark encircling his wrist. Not that it should be the first thing on his mind in such a situation, but Oswald couldn’t help noticing that his skin was its normal hue besides the irritation from His handling. It seemed He noticed as well. 

 

“Oh, how  _ interesting _ ,” He hissed. 

 

Oswald quickly clutched his wrist against his chest, trying to keep it far from Not-Ed’s reach. 

 

He pushed out His bottom lip in a pout, “Now would you look at that, seems we aren’t destined for soulmates, Ozzie. Isn’t that a son of a bitch?” 

 

“There may be one son of a bitch here and I assure you, that’s not it.” Oswald spat. 

 

Not-Ed twisted his features into mock hurt, Oswald doubted the man could actually  _ feel _ anything.

 

“Such harsh words,” His eyes took their time looking Oswald up and down, “but such a pretty harbor for them.” 

 

“You have  _ no right  _ to talk to me like that, who are you? Tell me where Edward is or I swear--”

 

“Swear what, Ozzie? You’ll kill me? Torture me? We both know you’d never hurt sweet Eddie’s body--or should I say,  _ our _ body.” He shot a threatening glare to Oswald, a dare to lay a finger on Him.

 

He continued, “As for who I am? Well I’m the better part of your little boy toy, the voice in his head that tells him how he can be better, not that the idiot ever listens.” 

 

He let out an exasperated sigh, traipsing over to Oswald, adjusting the knit green tie around Ed’s neck with a look of disgust. 

 

“Social advancement and fashion, two things our Eddie likes to ignore when it comes to my advice,” He huffed. 

 

“What do you mean, social advancement,” Oswald followed the man’s path, ensuring the other wouldn’t stand where Oswald couldn’t see. 

 

“Don’t worry, Eddie isn’t using you for your incredible connections, not that I haven’t been drilling the idea into his brain these last few months. No, I simply mean I know exactly what Edward is capable of, the things buried so deliciously deep inside of his mind that they worked their way up to create--well, me.” 

 

He gestured dramatically to Ed’s lithe form, splaying his fingers out for emphasis. 

 

“And you’ve still yet to tell me exactly what you go by, you are certainly not Edward Nygma and from what I can tell you haven’t come close to earning that name.” Oswald crossed his arms over his chest, hoping his power stance had some effect.   

 

This version of Edward seemed to thrive on reaction, something Oswald was determined not to allow him. 

 

“Answer me or ask me and I will put you to the test, some may know me but god help the rest.” 

 

Oswald wished he could say that Not-Ed smiled, but the truth was it more resembles the way a feral cat bears its teeth before a fight. 

 

Oswald pinched the bridge of his nose, “So these ostentatious riddles aren’t only confined to  _ my _ Ed’s personality, wonderful.” 

 

“Ostentatious?” Not-Ed clapped his hands together, “Who? Little ol’ me? Well Ozzie I have to say we seem to be getting on much better already.” 

 

   Oswald felt his cheeks heat up. His head and unfortunately other areas of his body, were terribly confused by the entire Edward, but not Edward, situation. Oswald’s thoughts screamed that this was not his Edward, the lack of that perfect emerald blushing over his skin when they touched should have been the only thing he needed to quell any confusion about the strange circumstances. And yet, the air of confidence and, albeit annoying, swagger in this Ed’s presence had a rather strong pull on the usually headstrong mob boss. Oswald shook his head to remove any idea that may resemble even the possibility of straying from his Edward, the real Edward. But was this not Ed, in a way? 

 

“What does Edward call you? Where did you come from?” Oswald was getting incredibly tired of the uneven question to answer ratio. 

 

“I’ve already given you your answer, if you weren’t so preoccupied by, ‘Where Ed is,’ and ‘What have you done with my sweet, precious Eddie?’,” He mimicked Oswald’s voice with an insultingly high pitch. 

 

“I do  _ NOT  _ sound like that!” Oswald stomped his foot, sounding very much like that. 

 

He just shrugged His shoulders, the incredible lack of affectation on the man’s face only fueled Oswald’s anger. 

 

“Fine! The answer to your  _ stupid _ riddle is--,” Oswald paused, “a riddle. The answer is a riddle.” 

 

Oswald felt his face twist in confusion but couldn’t help the tiny glimmer of pride he felt whenever he solved one of Edward’s riddles. 

 

Not Edward. 

 

“Correct.”

 

He seemed put-out, Oswald felt his pride grow. But He was too quick to wipe that affectatious smile back on His face.

 

“Let us start again, shall we? Wonderful to meet you Oswald Cobblepot, my name is,” He gave pause, ever the dramatist, “ _ The Riddler _ .” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Riddler's character is the most fun to write. Anyways, now Barbara knowwws, cue foreboding and suspenseful music.


	9. Remember This

The Riddler clasped an arm over his torso and bowed to Oswald, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction at being able to say the name out loud. Edward never let Riddler have this kind of fun, and he had to admit that Oswald was entirely  _ wonderful _ amusement. They may not be soulmates but Riddler was determined to have his share of the infamous Penguin. 

“The Riddler? Seriously?” Oswald swallowed a giggle. 

Riddler snapped out of his rumination, stepping far too close to Oswald for what he knew the man would like, height was an obvious advantage over the shorter of the two men. Riddler bore his eyes into Oswald’s, knowing the other was wholly unable to look away, these were  _ Ed’s  _ eyes after all. 

“Is something so funny to you,  _ Penguin _ ,” Riddler practically spit the words. 

Oswald pursed his lips, it was a shame how easily the man betrayed his emotions, Riddler always did love a challenge and it was much too easy to rile Oswald up. 

“I earned my moniker, I fought and killed, I did unspeakable things to get where I am. What have you done besides wear  _ my Edward  _ as some kind of suit?” 

Oswald spat right back, craning his neck up, ever closer to Riddler. This was a challenge, this is was more like it.  

“Oh Oswald, if only you knew what I have planned, the things you and I could accomplish,” Riddler paused to lean towards Oswald’s ear, lowering his pitch to a nearly inaudible growl, “you and I could be so good for each other.” 

Oswald quickly pulled back, Riddler was pleased by the faint dust of red on the man’s cheeks. Easy, much too easy. 

“N-No. You are not Edward. You are not  _ my _ Edward,” Oswald stammered. 

Riddler couldn’t help the chuckle that rumbled in his chest, reaching out to ghost his fingertips over Oswald’s cheeks, his nose, his eyebrow. 

“Tut-tut Oswald. How else can I teach you? Edward and I are the beginning and end of one riddle, when combined we will reveal so much about ourselves. Even about yourself, Oswald.”

Riddler dug his fingers uncomfortably in Oswald’s chin, feeling Ed pushing in the back of his head. It was okay, Riddler had done his part, better to let Eddie take the reins while he continued to plot their good work. 

* * *

Ed felt himself hit the floor with a loud thud, his head throbbing too much to understand why he was down there. So many things hurt it was hard for Ed to focus on just one spot. His head, his hand--his hand, oh  _ god.  _ Ed stared in disbelief at the bloodied mess that was his right hand, some of the blood dried but most of it still dripping onto his pants. Glass and bits of flesh muddled together in a disgusting art piece that perfectly showcased the danger he posed to himself. Ed could feel his heart racing, his eyes unable to leave the gnarly picture in front of him. So much broken glass across the bar and the floor, the dried blood on his pants and shirt.

“O-Oswald, what happened? Oh god, oh  _ god, oh god-”  _

Those were the only words Edward’s fried nerves could muster. Ed couldn’t remember a time when his thoughts swirled so fervently through his head, even the highly educated man couldn’t make sense of what they were. 

“Edward, Ed--please!” 

Oswald was trying his hardest to get Ed up from his spot on the floor, an impossible task for the crippled Penguin. Edward knew he was little help to Oswald but the solid material under him seemed to be the only thing made sense in that moment. Ed was sure if he stood up before he felt ready, the floor would be exactly where he’d end back up. Ed was grateful that Oswald finally got the hint that he wasn’t going anywhere, the proud man quite literally coming down to Edward’s level, the slight wince he could see when Oswald had to put unnecessary pressure on his leg made Ed feel a slight pang of guilt. A maimed man and a wounded bird sit on the floor of bar--Ed would laugh if his body hadn’t been so wracked with pain. 

Ed could finally feel his breathing even out, the mere presence of Oswald was enough to release him from the custody of agitated thoughts. Ed reached out to grab any part of his companion he could reach, the warmth--that comforting warmth he wished would envelope every inch of his body, suffocate him, become him--a poetically befitting end. Oswald’s hands so easily found Ed’s own, the touch more grounding than the actual floor beneath them. 

“ _ Oswald, _ ” Ed felt himself plead, but wasn’t quite sure for what. 

“Edward, my dear,  _ dear _ Edward.” Oswald whispered, tightening his hold on Ed’s hands, as if the two would drift away from the other should they part.

But Edward wasn’t going anywhere, what could Oswald be so scared of?   
  


“Oswald,” Ed freed one hand to guide his partner’s gaze upward, “it’s okay Oswald, I’m not going anywhere.” 

Oswald was trembling.

“But Ed you did, you were--well, truthfully I cannot say where you were but it wasn’t  _ you.  _ I mean, it was you, but not  _ you, you _ . I just--He was here and He was saying such terrible things about you--”

Ed stopped listening, or at least he stopped hearing what Oswald was saying. His blood turned to ice, afraid of what Oswald meant and knowing too well exactly what it was. 

“Oswald, tell me His name,” Ed replied with every ounce of emotion drained from his tone.

The glassy, blue eyes that met Ed’s own gave away everything the man needed without uttering a word. Still, Oswald continued. 

“The Riddler.” 

* * *

 

Oswald’s voice was barely a whisper, he wasn’t sure how but he knew Riddler could hear him, convinced the personality could and would show up at a moment’s notice. Seeing Edward so helpless, so left out of his own neurological functions sent daggers through Oswald’s heart. A man so divided by his own desires that they manifested into a personal devil, one Oswald was not keen on meeting again so soon. Oswald quickly shook himself of the ridiculous fear, it was a mere figment of the imagination, a ghost of Ed’s own demons. Ed. Edward Nygma, that was who needed his attention at that moment, not some second rate puppet master.  

“Oh Edward,” Oswald shifted closer to his partner, placing his own hands over the ones Ed still held to his cheek, “I am so sorry I couldn’t protect you, I couldn’t stop him--all I did was cower like some scared child. Please, _please_ forgive me.”  
  
The warmth of Ed’s smile was a welcomed sight after Riddler’s consistent predatory displays. And their beautiful hues mixed so perfectly once more, like nothing had happened. Oswald wished to never see his skin don its normal complexion after seeing the lacking reaction when Riddler touched him. 

“Oswald there is nothing to forgive. The Riddler counts on stunning his prey, catching them unawares so he can gain full control. He is terribly strong, he is cunning and captivating. He is everything I am too afraid to be,” Edward lamented. 

The daggers in Oswald’s heart seemed to dig a little deeper hearing Edward say such things. There was only so much Oswald felt he could do when it concerned reassuring Ed of his worth, but he’d do everything and more to make sure Ed felt comfortable, even in the slightest. Oswald finally got to his feet, offering both hands to his dear Edward, using the leverage to pull the man up and close enough to feel his body’s warmth.

“Edward, I am constantly in awe of you,” Oswald knew his expression must have betrayed every ounce of his feelings. 

Before Oswald could continue in his praises, he was abruptly interrupted by the feeling of lips pressed roughly against his own. Oswald felt his eyes blown wide in surprise, unable to keep the noise of astonishment buried in his throat. Ed was kissing him, Edward Nygma, the childish scientist he was ready to execute in that sterile lab just a few short months before. With his eyes still plastered open in shock, Oswald was able to take a mental note of every detail in front of him. How relaxed Ed looked, dark lashes just barely fluttering over his cheeks and that purple tint moved over the pale skin of his face more beautifully than anything Oswald could recall. 

A man he thought could be his greatest annoyance, another misguided fanboy, and now Oswald was kissing him. Though, Oswald did have to give Edward most of the credit as the proud kingpin found himself hopelessly helpless in the situation. By the time Oswald remembered to close his eyes, the kiss was over. And that time Oswald did nothing to quell the noise creeping up his throat, this one of disappointment, when he felt the absence of Ed’s impossibly soft lips. 

“I--,” Oswald quickly noted the panicked look on his partner’s face, “Edward? What’s wrong?” 

“Oswald, I am  _ so _ sorry. I don’t know what compelled me to act in such a way, I supposed what you said and the expression on your face--I simply couldn’t help myself I had to, to--” 

“Kiss me.” 

Oswald was sure he’d only smiled so much when he’d watched his mother perform in his club so many years ago, and had never been so happy since then either. 

Ed stared at his feet, a scolded child with their hand caught in the sweets jar, “I apologize if my actions were inappropriate or unwanted.” 

Oswald stepped forward, nearly toe to toe with his downtrodden friend. He reached a steady hand to Edward’s cheek, urging the man to look at him while the other hand lay carefully on Ed’s waist, soothing a thumb over the checkered shirt material. Oswald found he needed to go up on his tiptoes to reach Ed, failing miserably at meeting the man’s lips on his own. 

“Edward, if you’d be so kind as to come down a bit?” 

Oswald felt his cheeks burn when Ed giggled at his plight. 

“ _ So, _ the  _ mighty  _ Penguin can burn an entire city block with one command but he can’t reach his boyfriend for a kiss,” Ed teased. 

Oswald was sure a little bit of Riddler had snuck into that sentence, but he was much too preoccupied with Ed’s choice of words to care. 

_ Boyfriend.  _

Oswald surged up to finally meet Ed’s lips, moving one hand to the back of the man’s neck, threading his fingers through soft curls and straining with everything his legs would give just to reach properly. Granted, having only one leg that properly functioned, they didn’t give much. The feeling of Edward snaking deceivingly strong arms around Oswald’s waist to steady him gave the man enough confidence to place both hands at the back of Ed’s neck. Both men tilted their heads to effectively deepen the kiss, Oswald ran his tongue tentatively over Ed’s bottom lip, it was uncharted territory for the seasoned criminal. A thousand bank heists and not so much as a one-night romp with a meaningless stranger. This would take some getting used to for Oswald but if it was always going to feel so good, he found it to be very pleasing practice. 

The whine that echoed from Ed sent a pool of warmth to flood Oswald’s stomach. The air around them seemed to thicken, like the two were swimming in a humid haze and Oswald could hear only a buzzing in both ears the longer their embrace lasted. Convinced he would pass out from a lack of cool air, Oswald reluctantly pulled away from Edward, savoring the man’s disappointed huff. If Oswald thought the first look of sweet contentment on Edward’s face was beautiful, the sight of his reddened lips and wide-blown pupils was an electric storm in the man’s head. A litany of sinful images crackled through Oswald’s mind, a devilish storm of his own creation, a private picture show he very much wished to revisit at a later time. 

“Oh  _ dear _ ,” was all Ed could manage, his tone breathy and faint. 

Oswald couldn’t help the pride swelling in his chest, not too bad for a man of little experience--of  _ no  _ experience--he silently corrected himself. 

* * *

 

Ed could feel a cartoonish smile laze itself across his face, bringing fingertips up to his lips, he swore they buzzed with the energy the two men had just exchanged. 

“Oh  _ dear _ .”

Ed finally shifted his gaze to the man he held, Oswald slotted so perfectly in his arms, his missing puzzle piece. 

_ ‘Seriously, a few lip locks and the man suddenly has you thinking in ridiculously  _ boring  _ cliches? I think I’m gonna be sick.”  _ Riddler clutched his stomach and mimed a gagging motion, a theatrical display of disgust behind Oswald. 

Ed only flicked his gaze to the apparition for a moment, finding for the first time he simply couldn’t care less about what his alter might be doing while he’s not looking. Ed tightened the grip around Oswald’s waist, running his fingers over any muscle he could reach, splaying and unsplaying his hands to memorize every surrounding detail. The display of Oswald’s desire gave Ed a very new sense of confidence he never understood before then. He was wanted, and more importantly, he was wanted by Oswald Cobblepot. 

Oswald’s smile was blinding and Ed found himself enraptured by the fine lines that appeared at the corner of those impossibly blue eyes anytime he gave a genuine smile. Ed was glad to be working in such an egotistical business, quick to learn which of Oswald’s smiles were authentic and which were not, and it was becoming very easy to tell being that the unfeigned ones were reserved for their time alone. 

Though Ed was perfectly content to stay wrapped around Oswald until the very structure around them decayed, he thought he might be merging into territory of unwanted levels of affection. Ed released his partner, keeping his hands ghosting over the man’s arms, fingertips brushing over expensive suit material. 

“Oswald?”

He hummed in response. 

“Why did you kiss me so,” Ed cleared the nerves from his throat, “passionately?” 

Oswald gently swayed side to side in unadulterated bliss, Ed wasn’t sure if the man would topple over had the hands not been there to steady him. He looked at Ed through thick lashes, his beaming smile falling to a more self-satisfied smirk.

“I guess I don’t know what came over me,” Oswald nearly slurred each word, drunk on the high of their heated embrace, “perhaps it was what you said. Maybe it was the expression on your face.” 

Ed felt a blush crawl up his neck when his words were thrown back to him in such a haughty display. 

“And what did I say that has the King of Gotham so shameless?” Ed found himself quite drawn into the brazen undertones of their conversation, thankfully his mind kept from wondering what it would be like once they’d done more than simply kiss.

“You called me your  _ boyfriend _ .” Oswald’s delight seeped between the spaces of his teeth. 

The blush exploded onto Edward’s cheeks. Yes, he supposed he had said exactly that. How completely embarrassing. 

_ ‘Looks like your dearest Oswald isn’t the only one acting like a lovesick child.’ _

Ed made a swatting motion beside his ear. Not now, he only wanted to focus on Oswald.

On his boyfriend. 

_ Boyfriend, lover, partner, inamorato. _ A million labels flashed through Ed’s mind, devouring each one more than the last though they all meant the very same thing: he belonged somewhere and more importantly, he belonged to someone. 

“Edward, dear”

Ed’s skin tickled at the endearment.

“--is everything alright? It seems to me that you may be, forgive me for my assumption but perhaps you may be holding back.” 

Ed furrowed his brow, “I can’t see what you mean.” 

“Edward, you’ve hardly said anything for five minutes,” Oswald’s lips thinned, “and for you that is quite the record.” 

Ed found he didn’t appreciated the jab, no matter the truth it held. If it were anyone other than Oswald, Ed would have quickly found his way to slipping some dangerous chemical into the lunch of the perpetrator.  

“I can’t see how my silence would make me appear ingenuine,” Ed deadpanned. 

“I never said it made you ingenuine, _dear_ ,” Oswald rocked onto his heels, eyebrows raised, “I only said it seems that you may have something to say, something you are afraid of saying. I merely wish to assure you that whatever it is, I am a more than eager audience.” 

Ed opened his mouth to retort, his defense coming easy and sitting heavy on the tip of his tongue as it always did and yet, something about it didn’t feel right. 

Because for once, Ed wasn’t right. Certainly he wasn’t wrong, he never was, but Oswald was _ painfully _ right about Ed holding back. Everything he felt for Oswald, all he would do for him, it made Ed’s head throb when he focused for too long. To only know the man for a mere few months and be so ready to be claimed, utterly possessed by him, how willing Edward was to lay his life at Oswald’s feet. It was terrifying, it was electrifying. It was absolutely everything to Ed and he was not going to let it be ripped away by making the stupid mistake of scaring Oswald with such reckless intensity.

Ed couldn’t help remembering every good thing he lost as a child, taken from him by hateful parents that only sought to punish him for the existence he could not control. Not that Ed had not tried to take existing into his own hands, many times he’d dream of dying according to his will, to have complete control of himself in a way he’d never had with overbearing and yet somehow still neglectful parents. Ed existed to be their punching bag, their work horse whose only escape were the puzzle books and word crosses he’d smuggle from the library. The kind, blonde librarian never confronted Ed about his lifting habits, and he’d always admire her for that.

Being with Oswald was something Ed could control. The idea of him in Oswald’s head was fate’s string, delicate and nearly a hair’s breadth away from being severed at any moment. Though proud as Ed was, he knew when he’d been bested. Defeat tasted bitter, how well Oswald knew to be concerned with Ed’s inner feelings tasted sweet. 

“You’re right.”

* * *

 

Oswald felt the air in his lungs sputter and crack. 

“I’m--pardon me?” Oswald was absolutely astounded to hear those words pass by Ed’s lips so authentically. 

Ed squared his shoulders, “You’re correct, Oswald. I am holding back.” 

Oswald didn’t hide the amazement etched into every line of his face. 

“Well I--I am shocked to hear you admit it. But Edward please, I need to know exactly what makes you hesitate in such a way.”

Oswald’s mind was a flurry of accusations, disturbing and nasty ideas that Ed considered all of this a mistake, that his using the word “boyfriend” was simply a slip of the tongue he had immediately regretted. But had he not kissed Oswald so sweetly the first time? Oswald’s head pounded. Folks in his business were never allowed such creature comforts as a steady love life, a lover so passionate and smart was something Oswald did not intend to absolve easily. Ed shifted on his feet, his nervous twitching betrayed the attempted stoicism reflected in his upper body. 

“Edward, spit it out.” 

A stern hand felt wrong directed at such a kind man but Oswald wouldn’t apologize for his notoriously impatient nature. Finally Edward’s glass-framed eyes met Oswald’s own.

“I am afraid the intensity of my feelings may scare you away,” Ed stated bluntly. 

“The intens-,” Oswald scoffed, “the  _ intensity _ . Edward, have you already forgotten how eagerly I kissed you not ten minutes ago?”

Ed fumbled with his glasses, setting and resetting them on the bridge of his nose, having nothing better to do with his restless hands. He cleared his throat. 

“I most certainly have not. I rarely forget things, Oswald.” 

Oswald took a step forward, taking Ed’s infuriatingly twitchy hands in his own. 

“Then perhaps you will remember this.” Oswald paused to watch violet and emerald erupt onto the skin of their hands, every spot soothed by thumbs was followed keenly by vibrant color, “I am not so easily won over, nor am I terribly anxious to give my trust away, my line of work has instilled that in me tenfold. I never intended to allow myself the emotional luxuries afforded to traditional citizens, the everyday men and women who openly seek someone to share their lives with. This business always taught me that to do so was a weakness, something to be stamped at the beginning.” 

Oswald tried to swallow the lump that formed in his throat, keeping his eyes down to avoid Edward seeing the persistently building tears. 

“But Edward with you--with you I no longer see love as something to fear or deny. One cannot deny love, and I certainly do not wish to do so.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell I love it when these boys say each other's names?
> 
> Happy Sunday!


	10. Nesting Habits of The Emperor Penguin

 

Oswald finally looked up to see Ed’s eyes wide and glassy. There was a strong possibility the man was a million miles away or fighting the same tearful feeling as Oswald. He wasn’t sure which he’d prefer. Being brutalized by Fish Mooney, Arkham’s inhumane experimentation, suffering the humiliation of having to serve under Sal Maroni, Oswald was sure none of it held a candle to the Herculean effort it took for him to accept and even embrace his feelings for Edward. The situation was embarrassingly insufferable for Oswald’s pride, the trait he valued in himself most of all brought down by silly affairs of the heart. 

Oswald laughed. He laughed and cried for the proud kingpin he was to be brought down so quickly by a bumbling scientist with violent tendencies. Oswald’s shoulders shook with the intensity of his laughter, or the tears, it was becoming increasingly challenging to tell where one feeling ended and the other began. The mix of emotion almost blinded Oswald to the incredible warmth enveloping him, Ed’s strong arms held firm around his shoulders, neither man feeling any need to ruin the moment with useless words. 

Reluctantly, Oswald pulled back after a few moments, happy to see the contented look on Edward’s face. His dear,  _ dear  _ Edward. 

 

“I believe you should get some rest, Ed. I’m sure you’re worn out and I would like to have someone look at that hand of yours,” Oswald smiled, averting his eyes from the mess in front of him, “I’ll have Victor bring the car around.” 

 

* * *

Ed felt his hands tremble, partly from the shock he experienced in the aftermath of Riddler’s torment, but more so from the idea that they were en route to Oswald’s home. It was one thing for Ed to take up residence in Oswald’s office, that was business, even if there were plenty of unprofessional moments. This was intimate and awfully personal.

The sprawling mansion was a spectacle, the window of Oswald’s town car not nearly large enough to gain a full view of the Gothic structure. Ed knew his boyfriend was a man of means, he’d managed the expenses himself, but this was something far different than even the lounge’s grandeur. Oswald was not old money by any definition, though his father left the house to him, or at least, that’s what he’d told the nosy detectives during the investigation into the death of that wicked woman and her two awful children. It sent a thrilling surge of pride through Ed to think of the power his partner’s name held in Gotham and so well deserved in the face of uneven odds. This home served as an elegant reminder. 

Ed inched closer to Oswald, reveling in the warmth that grew when shoulders touched and fingers danced delicately over each other. Oswald’s hand rested protectively on Ed’s thigh, just the slightest amount of pressure from the man’s fingertips was enough to ground him in the moment, a pleasant reassurance that everything Ed experienced was real and it was all his. Ed felt his cheeks burn when Oswald’s thumb soothed a small area of his inner thigh, even with the layered material of his dress slacks and undergarments it was far closer than Ed had allowed anyone else to get. 

 

“Edward, are you alright?”   
  
Oswald’s voice broke Ed from his concentration, thankfully so as he feared his mind would wander to far more  _ intimate  _ places. He turned to Oswald, a pleasant smile on his lips. 

 

“Right as rain.” 

 

“Yes,” Oswald cleared his throat, “of course, but Edward you are bouncing both legs incredibly fast. I only know you to do so when you’re nervous.” 

 

Ed glanced down to see his rapidly moving legs, frowning at them as if they’d told Oswald an embarrassing secret. 

 

“Oh dear. Well, I suppose I am a bit uneasy at the idea of entering your home. Terribly intimate thing, a person’s domicile. I know we share an office but this is  _ your _ safe space, gifted to you by your father, I hate to trespass.” Ed shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 

 

Oswald laughed, one that Edward knew was not at him. It was important he remember that from time to time. 

 

“Ed, my dear, we’ve certainly passed over the introduction to each other’s homes in our relationship. Hell, I would go as far to say you ought to just move in at this point.” 

 

Ed felt his stomach flip, it felt like a million fluttering wings were released into his chest. Move in? With Oswald? Certainly the man was joking. It was much too early in their knowing each other to consider such an important step. But, oh  _ god _ if he was serious. Ed envisioned waking up next to Oswald each morning, those fluffy locks he adored peeking from under the down comforter, rolling over to tangle Oswald’s smaller frame in his arms, knuckles brushing silken fabric as his hands explored pale and trembling skin--

 

“Edward!”

 

Ed shook his head, roused most unwillingly from his daydream. He could feel Riddler becoming increasingly frustrated with the interruptions of his,  _ active  _ imaginings. 

 

“My goodness Edward, sometimes I wonder what must be going on in that head of yours,” Oswald scoffed.

Ed felt a charmed smile tug at the corners of his mouth, he suddenly felt much more at ease being introduced to such a private part of Oswald’s life. 

 

* * *

While Oswald chided Edward for his anxieties, he had his own demons to wrestle with. All the great Penguin wanted was to be everything his boyfriend needed, to rule Gotham with Ed at his side and share in the glory. Oswald hoped his abode would do some good in impressing Ed further, heaven only knows Oswald wasn’t going to do it on his own.   

Once the town car finally rounded up the driveway and stopped in front of the mansion, Oswald was able to release a breath he didn’t remember holding. It was embarrassing how reluctant he felt to lead Ed inside despite his insisting that everything was progressing at a perfectly normal rate. But, Oswald was known for his first impressions and hell if he wasn’t going to flex that same ability with Edward. 

 

“Well, no sense in waiting around in the car. Welcome to the Van Dahl estate, Edward.” 

 

Oswald gestured to the stone walls of his home, reaching for the car door before Ed quickly exited on his side. In no time the man’s long stride took him to Oswald’s side of the town car, opening it before Oswald could even process the man’s exit. Ed’s beaming face was at the outside of the door, holding his hand out to help guide the mob boss to his feet. Oswald blushed at the gesture, always angry with himself for needing some kind of assistance when it came to standing up, any other person that may have offered their hand like he was some some breakable, incapable thing would have answered to Oswald’s violent temper. But this was Edward, and the smile on his face when Oswald took his hand was worth more than petty insecurities. 

 

“You are quite the gentleman, Edward Nygma,” Oswald teased lightly. 

 

Ed pulled his shoulders back and tilted his chin up just slightly, the preening reminded Oswald of a show dog, how the man aimed to please. Oswald wondered how far that side of Ed’s personality went. Oswald pushed the heavy double doors open, reveling in the slight and quite literal jaw drop from his partner. 

Oswald offered his bent arm to his boyfriend, not easily shown up when it came to manners, he may have grown up desperately poor but Oswald’s mother instilled great morals in him. Well, maybe Oswald couldn’t consider himself a scrupulous man in all aspects of life but he would be damned if anyone was treated unfairly until they ultimately earned mistreatment. 

 

* * *

 

Ed took in the magnificent sight before him, fingertips digging slightly where he rested his hand on Oswald’s arm. His neck strained to memorize every detail of the foyer, the large oil paintings on either side, the grand staircase leading to what Ed assumed were many,  _ many _ more rooms. There was a darkness to the gothic style of the home that was so distinctly Oswald. The house seemed to brood and sulk, it reminded Ed of the times his boyfriend read over drab proposals or dealt with the less than thrilling, more business-centric aspects of his job. 

 

“Oh  _ dear _ ,” Ed breathed out. 

 

“Yes, I am quite proud of it,” Oswald dropped his arm to grab the hand Ed had perched on it, “and I am beyond happy that you find it to your liking.” 

 

Oswald brought the hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss over each knuckle. Ed’s ears burned with the tenderness he was shown, something he knew he’d never get used to. The feeling of seeing a man poised for violence, one who would dispose of a useless underling at the drop of a hat, be so unusually caring to only Edward was beyond description. It gave Edward a sense of endless devotion in his chest, it was tight and burned hotter than his blushing cheeks. 

 

_ ‘You know he would do anything for us.”  _ Riddler sneered. 

 

Ed shook his head, trying to loosen the annoying voice from inside his skull. Oswald may have known about Him but Edward was not keen on subjecting the man to his and Riddler’s spats. 

 

_ ‘Oh c’monnn. Admit it Eddie boy, you want to see how far it’ll go just as bad as I do. Take him apart,”  _ Riddler’s image flicked to stand beside Ed’s ear,  _ “see what makes him tick. Witness first hand how feverishly his heart truly beats for us.”  _

 

Ed tensed his muscles, trying to focus on Oswald’s movements through the front entrance, his lips moving as he spoke to one of the maids. The woman he spoke to sent a chill down Ed’s spine, she kept looking to Ed as if he were a determined stain on the linen. 

 

‘ _ You can’t keep ignoring me lover boy, you can play house, make pretend all you want but you need me. You know the kinds of things that happen in private homes--’ _

 

Riddler’s image flashed in front of Ed, a knowing smile on his face that didn’t reach his eyes. 

 

‘ _ Things you’ve only dreamed about.’ _

 

Flashed next to Ed’s left ear.

 

_ ‘Things you are too weak to ask for on your own.’ _

 

Next to Ed’s right ear.

 

_ ‘I can make him feel so good, give him what he deserves.’  _

 

Ed screwed his eyes shut, fists balled so tightly he could feel fingernails bite into the palms of his hands. 

 

“Shut  _ up _ . I would sooner die before I let you near him,” Ed hissed, careful to keep his voice low lest Oswald overhear.

‘ _ Promise?’  _

 

Ed slapped on his very best, “I am not speaking to a figment of my imagination” smile when Oswald approached him. 

 

“I’ve sent Olga to fix a room for you, I hope you will find it acceptable.” Oswald returned Ed’s smile. 

 

Ed stepped closer to his partner, and a small thrill of delight ran through him, it was that way anytime Oswald had to look up to face Ed. Something about it made him feel powerful, for so long he had figuratively looked up to Oswald and now the man was forced to literally look up to Ed. A slight shift in control that soothed Edward’s inferiority complex. 

 

Ed plucked a small piece of non-existent lint from Oswald’s shoulder, any excuse to touch his partner was a good excuse after all. Even a false one. 

 

“Oswald, I’m sure the room will be perfect. You’ve yet to disappoint when style is in question and I have every confidence you will deliver no matter how small the task.” 

 

Ed wished he could peel the blush from Oswald’s cheeks and lock it behind bulletproof glass, anything to insure it would be with him always. Ed thought of how light the color must be over the area he brushed when picking up the faux lint from Oswald’s shoulder. He wished to see more, to see how far the emerald would shine. 

Ed blinked, pushing fingers against his eyes to remove such shameful ideas from his head. Oswald was powerful, he was to be respected, and not drooled over like some common hussie. Together they were more, they were so much more than pesky, base human instinct. 

 

“You flatter me, Edward.” Oswald gestured upstairs, allowing Ed to lead the way, “Shall we?” 

 

Ed swallowed his nerves. His head pounded. 

 

* * *

Oswald leaned heavily on the staircase railing, the events of that day had certainly taken a toll on his muscles, not so quick to bounce back as he once was. Expending the emotional energy of witnessing Edward’s episode certainly did little to help his situation. Oswald couldn’t imagine how fatigued his partner must have been, despite the man still taking the steps two at a time. But he supposed that’s how Edward was, he would sooner burn himself out than power down. Oswald was grateful he’d agreed to rest, though he knows Ed would have been content to wrap his hand in the nearest piece of fabric and continue with a night’s work.

 

“Edward, if you’d just have a seat on the bed--I’m going to take care of that hand before infection sets in.” Oswald shooed his boyfriend to the mattress, grabbing a kit of the necessary tools from one of the room’s closets. 

 

“Actually, it can sometimes take up to several days for infection to set in, all depending on the bacteria and how much of the wound is exposed to said bacteria. Fun fact,  Staphylococcus Aureus is actually the most common infectious bacteria and that little bugger is the reason for all sorts of problems; food poisoning, bone and joint infections, medical implant infections,  _ bacteremia _ \--” 

 

“Ed! Please, nothing about those facts are all that fun for me,” Oswald wrinkled his nose at the imagery created for him, “in fact I’d like to get you bandaged even quicker if it’s all the same to you.” 

 

Ed smiled, so blissfully unaware of the bile rising in the back of Oswald’s throat thanks to those, not-so-fun facts. Oswald focused on cleaning Ed’s hand, taking his time when it came to extracting the remaining pieces of glass still embedded. The blood had all but dried, washed away easily with the antiseptic solution Oswald used for the many cuts in Ed’s hand. Edward’s shirt and slacks were another story entirely, soiled with caked blood and sweat. Oswald was happy to have an excuse to dress Ed in more appropriate clothing, something respectable for a professional setting, and Oswald wouldn’t pretend a well-tailored suit was not for his mutual benefit. 

Ed was a marble statue come to life, every line of his slender frame was smooth and so artfully crafted. Oswald found enough satisfaction in the curvature of Ed’s hand, running gentle fingertips over the skin to avoid causing as much pain to his companion as possible. The room was quiet save for the occasional sound of gauze being cut or bandage wrappers being opened, it was delightfully comfortable, almost domestic. Oswald felt a warmth in his chest watching violet shine through the thin material of the bandage, his fingers their own shade of emerald, it seemed his love for Edward wasn’t so easily contained.

 

Love. 

 

Damnit. There was that pesky word again. 

 

Oswald stiffened at the thought. After his mother’s death, the kingpin had sworn he’d never let himself love anything so long as his empire stood strong. And yet, Oswald had the world at his feet and the love of his life in his hands. It was terrifying, it was exciting and beautiful. It was too much to process at one time. 

 

“Oswald, is everything alright? You’ve stopped.” Ed hesitated to brush a free hand against Oswald’s cheek. 

 

So warm. The smallest touch and Oswald’s skin burned where Ed had merely grazed his fingers. 

 

“Perfectly alright, Ed dear,” Oswald snapped his head up to meet Ed’s eyes in hopes of a more convincing act, “you’re all patched up. I didn’t see any sign of infection but I’d like to keep an eye on it for the next few days if you don’t mind staying here. I can have my men go to your apartment to grab the necessary thi--”

 

“Oswald. You’re lying to me.” 

 

Oswald scoffed, his nerves fired faster than he could comprehend, Ed had him pegged too well. 

 

“Edward if that isn’t the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, what reason would I have to lie to you, hm?” Oswald cocked his head in mock innocence. 

 

Oswald suddenly felt his face being sandwiched between Ed’s hands, the man investigating every inch of it. 

 

“Ed, you know I do not appreciate being examined like one of your lab  _ specimens _ .” 

 

“ _ Shh. _ ” Ed hissed, taking Oswald by surprise, “I’m simply trying to study your features to see if I can’t figure out what you’re keeping from me. Seeing as you are unwilling to say anything yourself.” 

 

The smell of antiseptic and bandage adhesive filled Oswald’s nose, he wasn’t sure which was more unpleasant, the assaulting stench or Edward figuring him out so quickly. 

 

“Well if you must know,” Oswald let his eyes dart anywhere that wasn’t Ed’s face, “I was simply admiring your features and thinking how I must be the luckiest man alive to behold such beauty.”

 

Oswald knew he was speaking fast, he was hoping against all hope that Edward would be unable to understand him. But the intoxicating blush dusted over the man’s cheeks and ears told Oswald he must have heard everything. 

 

“I--well--I would consider myself the lucky one in this courtship,” Edward all but whispered. 

 

“Courtship?” Oswald smiled at the procedural language, “It’s times like these I can understand exactly why I love you.” 

 

_ Shit. _

 

* * *

 

The words ricocheted off every corner of the large, victorian style room. Ed felt each syllable writhe under his skin and reverberate against his bones. 

 

_ I love you.  _

 

Oswald  _ loves  _ him. 

 

‘ _ Huh, would’ve expected you to drop the ‘L’ bomb first, seeing as you’re the more lovesick fool of the two.’  _

 

Ed hardly cared to see where, or even if Riddler had appeared, so caught up in the weight of Oswald’s confession. The room seemed to grow three times smaller, Ed’s breath felt hot and sticky, laboring much harder to claw itself from his chest. He felt the chills of panic throb in his mangled palm, both hands now shaking much too noticeably. 

Sure they had established a mutual desire to be exclusive, that must have meant Oswald held some feelings of complacency towards Edward. But then why did Ed feel so completely terrified of those words? Those three words. They meant everything to Ed and he was absolutely powerless to prove it. Stunned by nerves and poisonous ideas that he could never do anything deserving of love, especially from someone so strong, so extravagant. 

Blood pounded in his ears, fingers coming up to press against his eyes in the only way Ed knew how to calm himself. Oswald said nothing. Oh  _ dear _ , he must think Ed was going to refuse him, taunt him or embarrass him. 

 

_ ‘Well sitting there trying to blind yourself isn’t going to help, genius,’ He sneered.  _

 

‘I am  _ not  _ trying to blind myself,’ Ed thought, having enough insight to keep his one-sided conversation in his head to avoid scaring Oswald anymore. 

 

_ ‘You obviously aren’t doing anything else of merit right now. You know, seeing as you are blatantly ignoring the most powerful man in Gotham, the one who just proclaimed his undying love for you.”  _

 

Riddler absentmindedly smoothed his tie, straightened his belt. He was so calm, Edward was outrageously envious. 

 

‘Oswald, did not profess an undying love. He just...said he loved me, plain and simple,’ Ed tried to reason with himself. 

 

‘ _ Obviously I know that, but do you? You’re exerting so much nervous energy I think you could power half of Gotham.’  _

 

‘Yes well, you don’t seem to be doing anything to help that,’ Ed grimaced outwardly. 

 

‘ _ I could.’  _

 

Ed eyed the hallucination hesitantly. 

 

‘I am  _ not  _ letting you take over.’ 

 

_ ‘As tempting as it would be to take total control of this trainwreck, for once, that isn’t what I’m proposing here Eddie.’ _

 

Ed cocked his head, still silent in both his mind and otherwise. 

 

‘ _ I’m suggesting,’  _ Riddler dramatically fanned both hands out in opposite directions, ‘ _ a fusion, a crossing of the streams. My cunning and confidence, your...whatever you have--we would make the perfect team.’  _

 

‘I-I don’t know.’

 

_ ‘I’m not hearing a no, Eddie.’  _ He beamed. The kind of light emitted from a nuclear explosion; deadly, radioactive.  

 

Ed had nearly forgotten about his partner, still stunned into silence by his own words. It took a longer moment for Ed to realize how his silence could easily be misconstrued as a negative reaction. Riddler always demanded to be the center of attention, and damned if He hadn’t had plenty of practice. 

 

“Oswald!”

 

Ed noted the small jump his sudden exclamation emitted from the man, apparently his conscious and subconscious self were both hell bent on ruining this. 

 

“Oswald, I-” Ed tried, calmer this time, “Iloveyoutoo.”

 

Well, at least he  _ thought  _ he was calm. 

 

Ed didn’t mean for the words to run together, they felt like a rush of air clawing out of his lungs, nothing he could do to stop it. It wasn’t meticulous, it wasn’t careful or precise the way Ed dealt with forensics. This was loose and sloppy, when Oswald had slipped in his own confession it still felt intentional. Ed was steadfast feeling his loss of control around Oswald, something about the man’s poise was so distracting compared to the mediocrity Ed was used to with his peers at the GCPD. His skin felt hot and everything in the room grew too small, much to small, the words left a massive hole in Ed’s lungs that he struggled to refill. A piece of him gone, so easily thrown into its becoming. 

Ed imagined opening his own chest, cracking ribs, tearing at sinew and muscle in the futile hope of sewing the words back into place. The consequence of this admission opened up a reality of something so terrifying and destructive, lodging itself in Ed’s throat, he felt faint. The room, his lungs, no air--why couldn’t he  _ breathe _ ?--everything burned in the corners of his eyes.  _ Get out, get out _ , the words buzzed in his head. Fight or flight. 

 

Ed easily chose the latter. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to throw out two chapters as reparations for not posting last week. Whoops. I need every single person who reads this to know how much it warms my heart that it is being so well received, mwah!


	11. Know Me Better

The words flowed so quickly from Ed's lips, Oswald could scarcely comprehend them.  _ I love you too _ . Reciprocation, acceptance, it meant everything and more to the loveless criminal who only knew kindness from his mother and father, both so brutally torn from his life by others that deemed Oswald unworthy of compassion. It was why Oswald cursed his carelessness around Barbara Kean, the vile woman wouldn't hesitate to spill the secret to each end of Gotham and back again. It was why he felt the need to protect Ed, to shelter something so good from anyone who felt he'd never earned it. Oswald made quick mental note to speak to Barbara about that day's occurrence, if he had to bribe her with more territory, money, guns, whatever it was Oswald would give it to her. Hell, he'd give the woman his entire empire if it kept Edward out of harm's way. But first, his frightened boyfriend cowering in the en suite bathroom was Oswald's foremost issue. 

 

He carefully approached the large, oak door, deciding against knocking.

"Ed? Edward?" Oswald kept his voice quiet and soft. 

 

Nothing.

 

"Edward, I won't ask you to leave before you feel ready, I just need to know that you're alright." 

 

Slow, steady, calm. 

 

"I'm okay." Ed's words were quick. 

 

Oswald let out a heavy sigh, a silent thank you to whoever was listening that he'd not completely frightened the man. Oswald knew what it looked like when Ed was frightened and Riddler certainly did not need any part in such a sensitive situation.

 

"Is there anything I can do to-"

 

"No, that's alright. I'm alright." 

 

Oswald grimaced. So Edward was lying, and he was doing a terrible job at it. 

 

"Edward you certainly don't sound alr-"

 

"I promise. I'm okay, Oswald." His tone was significantly more pointed, aggravated. 

 

Oswald felt his nerves fire, for the man to say he supposedly love him and to just go cower in the bathroom? No, no that would not do. Edward may be Oswald's soulmate but the proud criminal would be damned if he'd give up any measure of respect in their relationship. Oswald huffed, loud enough so he was sure Ed would hear him. 

 

"Edward Nygma if you do not come out this minute I swear I will break this door down with my bare hands," Oswald pressed. 

 

* * *

_ 'He's got quite the temper, isn't that just delicious?’  _ The alter hissed, a suggestive lilt to his voice that Edward despised

. 

"He's angry because  _ you _ forced me to come in here." 

 

Ed pointed a sharp index finger at Riddler. If He were more than a hallucination, Ed would have dug the digit far into the persona's chest and punctured the vile creature's lung just to shut Him up for a while. 

 

_ 'I can't force you to do anything dummy, because y'know,' _ Riddler gestured to His own figure,  _ 'figment of the imagination and all.'  _

 

Ed pressed fingers against his eyes, he felt his heart keeping time with the incessant pounding of Oswald's fists against the door. The man was nothing if not persistent. Ed leaned over the sink and gripped the ivory bowl hard enough to hurt Unfortunately, turning on the faucet did little to dampen the sound of Oswald's demands. 

 

_ ‘Splash all the cold water you’d like, hell drown yourself for all I care. I don’t see how you can face Oswald now without me. Running like a scared little child, second time you’ve done it to him right? I’m sure he is getting awfully tired of that.’ _

 

Riddler checked over his nails, feigning disinterest. 

 

Ed huffed, glancing up for a moment to see his alter leering over his shoulder. But He was right, Ed hated how He was always right. Ed wasn’t nearly strong enough to face Oswald alone, not after the spectacle he’d made. 

 

_ ‘I can do everything you can’t, that’s why you made me, Eddie. I’m everything you aren’t, everything we both know Oswald deserves. Think of Barbara Kean, the way she mocked you, talked about you like you are nothing more than Oswald’s plaything. A pretty face to keep around when The King gets bored.’ _

 

“I’m...I’m  _ not  _ his plaything, Oswald knows that.” Ed struggled to keep his gaze locked on his alter, the image flitting in and out of view. 

_ ‘Big damn deal. Oswald isn’t the only person in Gotham you idiot, what is the good opinion of one man worth when you could have so many more alongside it? Better yet, think of their fear, their devotion. Oswald has it and we should too.’  _ His voice buzzed in each of Ed’s ears, pressing hard against his skull, begging to be let out. 

 

The pain was similar to what Ed felt before his outburst at the lounge, only this time he didn’t  _ want  _ to fight it. Riddler was right, how long had the scientist gone unnoticed, jeered at by people so far beneath him? He has the love of Gotham’s most powerful man, it had to mean something for fate to chose them as soulmates. 

 

Such a shame to let all that power go to waste. 

 

* * *

 

Just as Oswald was prepared to begin shooting the door to pieces, the handle turned and Edward finally emerged. The man looked nothing like Oswald expected, no sign of fear or shame, in fact he was the picture of pride. Ed had his shoulders squared back, pushing his hair back into place and straightening his glasses to rest comfortably on his nose. 

 

Oswald had to admit he was annoyed to see the man in such a state of calm, for Ed to create such a scene and reemerge perfectly fine? It was irksome to the kingpin’s ego. 

 

“Edward,” Oswald backed up, his fists balled and his lips pursed, “care to explain exactly what all of this is about?” 

 

Ed finally looked at Oswald, hands correcting the tie around his neck. 

 

“Oswald,” the name drew a smile from Edward somewhere between mischievous and sickeningly charming. 

 

Oswald merely crossed his arms over his chest, “Well? I’m waiting Edward, I  _ demand _ you tell me why you fled after-”

 

“After I told you I love you.” 

 

Oswald felt his cheeks turn embarrassingly red. Such pith. 

 

“Y-Yes, precisely.” Oswald tried and failed to keep his words sharp. 

“I am sorry about that, Oswald,” the man took a long step forward, taking Oswald’s chin between his two fingers, “please understand my feelings just got the better of me. Won’t happen again, I’ll make sure of that.” 

 

“Yes well,” Oswald was poised for much more of a fight, he stuttered with untapped energy, “I suppose--I suppose that makes sense. But why run, you know I love you Edward, and I assure you there is no need to fear your emotions.” 

 

“I see that now. And I do love you, Oswald.” The way Edward said his name was like the finest silk, cool and smooth. 

 

Oswald, lost in his reverie, suddenly felt the slow and languid movement of Edward’s lips press against his own. There was a confidence behind it that was nearly unrecognizable, the times they’d kissed before had been clumsy and rushed. The deceivingly strong hands that Oswald cherished so dearly moved to either side of his face, the man could still feel weak pulses of anger thrum in his veins. But how could he focus on anger with the feeling of Edward’s full lips against his own, everything so gentle and careful.  

Oswald cursed the small noise that crawled from his throat when he felt Edward’s tongue swipe across the seam of his lips. A request for permission that Oswald was all too happy to grant. The man gave a needy whine when he felt the warmth of Edward’s tongue caress his own. It was heady, hot and downright shameful. A rather intoxicating shame.

Warm fingertips found their way under the many layers of Oswald’s suit, he wished he could break their embrace to see the green hue dance across his stomach. But he only pulled Ed closer, gripping desperately at the man’s shirt. 

 

Oswald managed a terribly weak, “Edward,  _ please,”  _ before he was lifted easily onto Ed’s hips. Oswald did his best to grind down, to create some form of much needed friction but he was wholly unsure of what to do with himself. Ed wordlessly moved them to the large bed, nearly throwing Oswald onto it, caging the man with his lithe body in a display of dominance that Oswald never expected from such a meek man. 

 

Ed pressed his knee between Oswald’s legs to spread them further apart. Oswald felt a heat rush it the pit of his stomach, rutting against Edward’s thigh to feel even a semblance of much needed pressure. The low chuckle Edward gave echoed in Oswald’s head, a blush of embarrassment seeped onto his cheeks and worked its way to burn the pale tips of his ears. Oswald threw an arm over his eyes, a rather immature gesture to be certain.

All of Ed’s ministrations suddenly stopped. Oswald let out a whine. 

 

“Oswald, do not cover your face.” His voice was stern, commanding. 

 

Oswald only shook his head, arm firmly in place. He knew he was far past the point of making coherent sentences. 

 

“Oswald,” Ed easily trapped both of the man’s wrists in one hand, “I need you to look at me. I need to see you.” 

 

Oswald let his mouth gape, his heart and head pounded with the intensity of Edward’s eyes, they were terribly compelling and dangerous. Oswald had never seen anything like it in all his days in the underworld of Gotham, least of all in the twitchy scientist he’d first known. 

 

Ed’s fingers brushed against the sensitive skin of his stomach while the other hand held Oswald’s arms flush with the bed. The man began the arduous task of divesting the well-dressed crime boss, Oswald wanted so badly to run his hands over Ed’s long arms, watch the violet trails ebb and flow across his skin. As if hearing his wordless plea, Edward finally released his grip and followed the path of half-unbuttoned shirt fabric. He tangled his hands in Oswald’s collar to begin placing heated, open mouthed kisses over his jawline, stopping in the spots that made the smaller man whimper. A light kiss behind his ear, the hot swipe of a tongue over his pulse point, replaced quickly by a sharp bite. It was a horribly good thing.

 

Oswald preened at the careful attention, body arching up into Edward’s embrace, his head swimming with the inability to focus on just one area of pleasure. His neck, his stomach, every inch of him burned where Ed touched him. He felt Ed’s lips ghost against the shell of his ear. 

 

“Our dear Edward is going to be sorry he missed this,” Ed crooned. 

 

Oswald furrowed his brow, thoughts still cloudy from the rush of endorphins. He pulled back to look at Edward, the man’s smile was all brilliant teeth. 

 

It was predatory. 

 

It was  _ not  _ his Edward. 

 

The confidence, the cool and calculated way this man moved. Oswald cursed himself for not seeing it quicker, Riddler must have taken over in the bathroom. The realization felt like a bucket of ice water had poured over him. Oswald let out a noise of aggravation, placing his hands against Riddler’s chest and shoving the man off of him as hard as he could manage. 

 

“ _ YOU!  _ God you-you ANIMAL,” Oswald scrambled higher up the bed, pressing his back against the headrest, “How  _ dare  _ you? I-I...I would slit your throat right now if it wouldn’t kill Edward too!” 

 

Oswald was seething, his heart rate once again rising to dangerous levels.

 

“Really? Because something tells me you weren’t too upset about it just a moment ago,” Riddler glanced suggestively to the still-noticeable bulge between Oswald’s legs. 

 

Oswald brought his knees up to his chest and tried in vain to hide the blush that spread across his face. The nerve of this man. 

 

“Yes well, I thought I was with Edward. I never would have betrayed him like this.” 

 

Oswald’s voice wavered at the idea of crossing Ed. He would never, he  _ could _ never, but he supposed he already had in a way. It was all so confusing to Oswald, it was Ed but somehow not? He needed a drink, and preferably a very strong one. 

 

Riddler rolled his eyes, “How can some of the smartest men be so terribly blind at the same time? Don’t you get it, I  _ am  _ Edward. I am the piece that Ed tried so hard to repress, to hide away in the shadows of his mind so others couldn’t see the darkness inside of him. But  _ I _ know you can accept that darkness--foster it into something beautiful. If you love him Oswald, you will have to love me too.” 

 

Oswald’s mouth gaped open and close, open and close, a fish out of water. He had no rebuttal, it was perfectly sound logic, how could Oswald claim to love this man if that only applied to half of him? If he’d made it conditional, how could Oswald claim to truly love Edward. 

 

“And how am I supposed to trust you, you-you silver tongued  _ devil _ ,” Oswald spat. 

 

“My silver tongue seemed to do a lot more for you then you care to admit.” 

 

Riddler inched further towards Oswald. The kingpin looked away from His intense gaze.

 

“But I trust  _ you _ , Oswald. In fact I believe I’m even becoming rather fond of you.” 

 

Oswald looked down at the silk sheets, away from Riddler’s suggestive grin, he did not need a man of such talents to see the embarrassment dusted over his cheeks. 

 

“Well, flattery will get you everywhere I suppose,” Oswald gave a breathy chuckle. 

 

Mirth danced over Riddler’s lips, once again he moved to Oswald’s ear, gently grazing the skin. 

 

“Just how far will it get me then, Oswald?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:)


	12. The Curtain Rises

Barbara paced the floor of her office, the brightly lit wall of guns behind her creating a strobe effect with the quickness of her pace. Tabitha sat unperturbed on a leather sofa in front of the few steps leading to Barbara’s desk, dangling her leather-clad legs over the armrest. 

 

“Barb, you know you make me nervous when you do that.” 

 

“Ya, Tabby? Well you should be nervous, Oswald has a new boy toy and who knows what ideas that leggy geek is putting in his little lovebird’s head,” Barbara quieted her restlessness long enough to shoot a glare at her girlfriend. 

 

Tabitha reluctantly left her comfortable spot on the sofa, sauntering to her over-worked lover. She placed careful hands on Barbara’s shoulders to get the woman to relax. 

 

“Babs, I don’t see what some wannabe doctor-”

 

“Forensic scientist.”

 

“ _ Whatever,  _ I don’t see what power this two bit scientist would even have. Oswald may be a pain in the ass but he’s not a complete idiot.”

 

Tabitha soothed the skin around the collar of Barbara’s dress, relishing in the porcelain tinted with the sweet red glow of her soulmate marker. Barbara let out a thankful hum. 

 

“Sweetie, you didn’t  _ see _ the way these two looked at each other. Swear to God, Oswald thinks the sun shines outta’ this kid’s ass. What Oswald sees in that oddball, I have  _ no _ idea.  _ Edward Nygma _ , such a weird name,” Barbara chided. 

 

“Y’know, we can do something with that,” Tabitha raised a mischievous brow. 

 

Barbara sat at her chair, content to feel the warmth from Tabby’s fingertips massage her anxiety-stricken muscles. 

 

“Go on.”

 

“Well, this Nygma guy is Penguin’s soulmate right? We know the man is a cold-blooded killer but he’s also one of the most damn emotional people I’ve ever seen. I mean you should have seen the way he cried and cried when I stabbed his mom,” Tabitha scoffed.

 

“Yes well, people tend to cry when their parents are stabbed in front of them.” 

 

Tabitha leaned closer to Barbara’s ear, placing small kisses behind it, “You didn’t.” 

 

Barbara leaned back, catching a quick kiss, “No, but I’m also the one who did the stabbing.”

 

The two women shared a conspiratory smile before Tabitha continued. 

 

“What I’m suggesting is, we spread this information to the right person? No telling what Oswald would pay to have his precious boy toy safe and sound.” 

 

Barbara turned her chair to face Tabitha, grinning up at her girlfriend, she wrapped slender arms around the woman’s waist and pulled Tabby onto her lap. She lathed the woman’s neck with kisses and carefully placed love bites, her lips leaving a trail of deep blue across Tabitha’s smooth skin. 

 

“Tabby,” Barbara spoke low and even between kisses, “have I ever told you how much I love that big brain of yours?” 

 

“I wouldn’t mind hearing it more often,” Tabitha gave a devious grin and a sharp bite to Barbara’s bottom lip. 

 

The loud sound of their heavy front door shutting startled both women from their musings. 

 

“Pardon me ladies, I seem to be interrupting something.” The cool voice sounded nearly inhuman. Too collected, too calculated. 

 

Barbara swung her chair to face the voice’s source with Tabitha still in her lap.

 

“Jeremiah Valeska. To what do we owe this pleasure?”  

 

Both women stared intently at the menacing, pale man. His posture held the poise of a man far surpassing chaos, a level of insanity carried across his shoulders that had yet to be defined. Even for a seasoned criminal, the man’s unnerving presence and freakish green eyes sent a chill up Barbara’s spine. 

 

Jeremiah tipped the wide brim of his hat, “Hello Ms. Kean, Ms. Galavan.” 

 

“How did you even get in here, freak?” Tabitha snaked her way out of Barbara’s embrace and stood firm next to her girlfriend. 

 

Jeremiah flicked his gaze to Tabitha, Barbara kept one hand on her desk and another on the firearm hidden beneath it. 

 

“You might want to learn some manners, Tabitha. Your guards have certainly learned  _ their _ lesson,” the man glanced over his shoulder, “though I do not see them being in the position to learn much of anything now.” 

 

Barbara produced a pained smile.  

 

“Tabby dear, do play nice with Jeremiah. We’re all just a bunch of lawless freaks trying to get our piece of the Gotham dream, ain’t that right Jer?” Barbara threw a poisonous smile at Jeremiah. 

 

“I will have you both refer to me as Mr. Valeska, I am sure you understand.” Jeremiah’s smile was a thin line of reddened lips. 

 

Tabitha snatched the bullwhip strapped to her hip. 

 

“Loud and clear, now I suggest you quit the tapdance and tell us what you want before Tabby gets impatient. You know how us girls get a bit whip-happy when we’re bored,” Barbara said between gritted teeth. 

 

Jeremiah stepped forward, closing the gap between himself and the two women. Barbara stood, not ready to let a mutant show her up in her place of business. 

 

“It is simple really. I require land, a good lot of it, and do not bother asking what for because I am afraid that secret stays between myself and the wind.” Jeremiah continued to stare unblinkingly at the women. 

 

Barbara crossed her arms over her chest, “Land? Right. So why come to us for this, you know we don’t own this part’a town.” 

 

“Very good Barbara. So I see it is  _ not _ true what they say about blonde women and their brains, or I suppose, lack thereof.” Jeremiah took one more step forward, postured opposite Barbara’s side of the desk. 

 

“Okay you two-bit funnyman, enough. Cut to the quick before I let my girlfriend shove your pasty head up that carny-reject ass,” Barbara hissed, nails biting into the wood of her desk. 

 

“Such language.” Jeremiah tutted, “No, no that will not do if we are to be partners.” 

 

Barbara scoffed, “Right. And what could possibly convince Tabby and I to go into business with you, Valeska?” 

 

Jeremiah stared wide-eyed at either woman, if Barbara was told the strange man lacked eyelids, she’d believe it. He reached calmly into his coat, Barbara saw the quick flash of silver that had her reaching for the weapon under her desk. Jeremiah was supernaturally quick, firearm already trained on Barbara before she could even brush against her own. 

 

“Now, I suggest you listen to me. You have no guards, my team has made sure of that. If either of you make a move, I will not hesitate to land a bullet right between your eyes, it may be inconvenient to my plans, but I will survive. Move a finger, and you two shall not.” 

 

Jeremiah focused his aim on Tabitha, “And I would so hate to ruin such an attractive face with unnecessary violence, Tabby.” 

 

Barbara sucked in a sharp breath at Jeremiah’s use of the pet name. She stood in front of Tabitha, hands raised squarely in the air. 

 

“Keep that thing on me, Valeska. Touch a single hair on Tabitha’s head and I will personally peel back that alabaster skin of yours until you’re begging me to kill you.” 

 

“Good, I have your attention. Now, it has been made apparent that you two work for Oswald Cobblepot, the man whose land I need to execute my work. You see, I am bold but not stupid, I know in order to get to him I am going to need your full cooperation.” 

 

Jeremiah clicked the gun safety. 

 

“And in order to do that, I believe we need to form an air of trust. Don’t you agree, Barbara?” His lips peeled back into an unnatural smile. 

 

“It’s lookin’ like that’s the reality of the situation. Lower that hand cannon and we can talk.”  

 

Barbara slowly lowered her arms. Fine, this guy wanted trust, Barbara could play the part so long as it kept Tabitha safe. 

 

“Happy to,” Jeremiah returned the weapon to his coat and took a seat in front of Barbara’s desk, eyes still flicking between the two wary women, “and in return I ask you to tell me how exactly I should go about taking this land from Oswald Cobblepot.” 

 

Barbara mulled it over, there were very few things keeping her loyal to Penguin but even fewer keeping her from blasting the clown skyhigh. She was a woman of no allegiance, the things she cared about simply boiled down to Tabitha and her power over the gutter trash of Gotham citizens. Though she liked the man, Oswald could be fun for a drink and a laugh, he did have the last bit of power that Barbara could only dream about. The things she yearned to give Tabitha, to spoil the woman greater than she already did and not for nothing but, Barbara also liked nice things. Oswald’s trust was a tricky thing to gain, the man had no close friends or even any acquaintances. Sure Barbara heard him throw around the phrase, “old friend,” here and there but it was a simple power play, albeit an effective one. Oswald Cobblepot is an unstoppable force, his resolve annoyingly strong and there hadn’t been anyone tough enough to waver it. 

 

“I am waiting, Barbara.” Jeremiah’s voice never raised above a flatline pitch. 

 

“Ya, and I’m thinking,  _ Mr.  _ Valeska,” Barbara snapped.

 

How to stop a power hungry, stubborn son of a bitch? 

 

“Nygma!” Tabitha nearly surged forward with the realization, looking between her girlfriend and the ghastly trespasser. 

 

Jeremiah looked expectantly at Barbara and Tabitha. 

 

“Penguin’s side piece, Nygma. He’s got to be the perfect in to get Oswald’s backing, right Barb?” Tabitha smiled excitedly at her partner. 

 

Barbara leaned forward, her hands joined under her chin.

“He is much more than just a side piece, Tabby,” she flashed teeth at her girlfriend, “and that makes you a very lucky man, Mr. Valeska.” 

 

“Tell me about this man, what makes him so special to our feathered friend?” 

 

Jeremiah leaned back in wait. Though both women knew it was not a pass to let their guard down. 

 

“This  _ man _ happens to be Oswald’s soulmate. I saw the whole thing, Penguin lit up like a damn Christmas tree when he got his hands on Nygma. Put that long legged Poindexter in the line of fire and you’ll have Oswald wrapped around your pale, little finger.” Barbara confirmed. 

 

Jeremiah looked past Barbara for a moment, only refocusing when it seemed he had reached a conclusion. 

 

“Well then, I believe it is settled,” he stood and smoothed his coat, “I want Edward Nygma.”

* * *

“I want Edward Nygma.”

 

It had been a few days since the incident, Riddler held at bay of his own will. He was utterly confident his effect on Oswald would outlast the personality switch. Ed sat in silence on the edge of their bed, easily settling in the mansion when both men had decided it was a much better place to conduct business. Affairs of the heart as well as of Gotham’s underworld. 

 

“I want all of you, every piece that you may be too afraid to show the world. I beg you not keep it from me any longer,” Oswald neared a whisper, his hands clasped tightly around Edward’s. 

 

Ed stared at his partner, slack jawed at the vulnerability carved in every delicate line of Oswald’s face. The man seeped truth from every pore and Ed felt an invasion of pain in his chest at the raw emotion being expressed. For a man who never knew kindness, not from the men and women of the GCPD and not even from his own vial parents, Ed was overcome with a sense of dread. How could Oswald understand what he was agreeing to undertake? Edward wasn’t even sure what it meant. 

 

“Oswald I-,” Ed felt his throat constrict, “I cannot promise anything about what this may mean for me. I shudder to think of asking you to accept such unpredictability. I could hurt someone,  _ kill them _ even. With the things He whispers to me, I wouldn’t be surprised if the outcome were both.” 

 

Ed hung his head, still stroking his thumbs over every inch of skin he could reach on Oswald’s hands. His disappointment at the hands being taken from him was short lived when they were repositioned on either side of Edward’s face. Ed pushed into the warmth, delighted by the violet and emerald glowing in his periphery. 

 

“Edward, you know as well as any that I would not bat an eye if that were to happen. I am the King of Gotham, you’ve experienced first hand what kind of bloodshed that entails,” Oswald shook his head with a chuckle. 

 

It was true, Ed lost count of the times he’d seen Oswald personally take care of an unloyal miscreant or a smuggler behind on paying her debts. The man was surprised he took so well to carnage and sinew, but Edward had seen his fair share of violence at his day job. Before Oswald, Ed was only privy to the aftermath of an angry gang’s wrath or revenge, to be apart of it was an undeniable thrill. Ed never joined in, resigned to a role as the silent observer, listening to the prompting of Riddler’s enthusiasm to participate. Watching Oswald’s blade disappear so easily into flesh, seeing the river of crimson run over the poor soul’s hands as they tried in vain to keep pressure on their hopeless wound. Sometimes they would beg Edward to help, scream and cry out for mercy, reach toward him with bloodied hands in a last-ditch effort to survive. They never did.

 

It was euphoria. 

 

The more time went on, the less Edward could separate his and Riddler’s thoughts, and the less he even cared to. 

 

“I will love you for anything you may be, Edward. Man or monster, I will be there to clean the blood from your hands.” 

 

Oswald’s eyes burned with an unfamiliar intensity, his lips seizing Edward’s own in a possessive kiss. Ed rushed to ball his fists in the fine silk of Oswald’s coat, he wanted to tear it apart at the seams, remove the offensive garment that kept his fingertips from roaming over naked skin and leaving verdant trails in their wake. The fever with which they embraced was maddeningly familiar but hard to trace. Edward assumed it was a recollection of last week’s clever play by Riddler, not that he had exactly been an active participant at the time. 

Edward leaned back on the large mattress to allow Oswald to better position himself, the man’s smaller frame easily surrounding him. Oswald pressed his hips flush with Ed’s and both men groaned at the contact. Edward would never get enough of Oswald’s burning skin against his own, even draped in fabric it was beautifully unbearable. Blunt nails dug into Ed’s jaw with a plea for more, tore at flesh to gain a deeper understanding of the man beneath it. 

 

“Edward,” Oswald gasped against the man’s lips, “I want to show you that I am being truthful. I want to-- _ oh god _ \--I need to prove my loyalty to you.”  

 

Ed’s brain was in overload, the sweet promises and even sweeter friction of Oswald’s clothed erection dragging against his own. There was little chance he would be able to form a coherent sentence if he’d wanted to, merely settling for a quick nod and another drag of Oswald’s hips. 

 

“Tell-- _ Oswald _ \--tell me what you want,” Edward begged.

 

“I want--I want you to kill for me. I want to witness the union between yourself and the thoughts you deem too ugly for words. I  _ need _ you to see the beauty in destruction by your own hands.” Oswald pushed himself up to a sitting position on Ed’s hips, taking either hand in his own and kissing over every fingertip for emphasis. 

 

Edward felt his face contorted in a mixture of bliss and understanding. Yes, yes he would show Oswald, he too needed proof the man was right. Edward would accept what he was always meant to be, foster it into something marvelous for the two of them. Bathe themselves in blood and bone, mark each other with the bonds of slaughter. It would be theirs and theirs alone, an untainted sacrifice to each other’s devotion. And it would be so  _ very  _ good. 

 

Ed frantically nodded his head, his mind adrift in a sea of opportunity. 

Oswald leaned over to kiss Edward one more time, slower and more calculated, his fingers sliding between the other’s to keep Ed’s hands pinned to the bed.

 

“Then I suppose we have no time to lose.” 

 

Oswald’s smile was divine torture. 

 

* * *

 

Oswald took his time in selecting the perfect candidate for Edward’s transformation. Whoever it was needed to be deemed worthy of dying by such exquisite hands, and yet have done Oswald enough wrong to die in the first place. The kingpin settled for a man that had been in his employ for little over five months, Mikey “The Martyr” Jones. A little murmur through the ranks of Mikey’s decision to let everyone in on his speculations about the nature of Oswald’s relationship with “the new guy”, as he had so rudely referred to Ed, was the perfect resume. It seemed the man was wont to earn his nickname if Oswald had any say in the matter, let him be made an example for anyone who speaks ill of Edward. 

 

“Oswald?” Ed called from the first floor. Oswald had ensured his partner was out on business long enough to bring home their prize. 

 

“In our room, dearest,” Oswald called back. 

He surprised himself with the use of such a sweet nickname, but nonetheless it felt divine rolling off his tongue.  _ Dearest _ , how very domestic. Oswald looked over the gangster tied very snuggly to a chair in the middle of their room, idly running his hands over the tools provided for what he hoped would be Edward’s grand gesture. 

 

“I swear to  _ god,  _ Cobblepot--I’ll have you and your little hussy’s skulls smashed in faster than you can even  _ begin _ to beg for mercy,” Mikey spat. 

 

Oswald examined his nails with wild disinterest, “I don’t suppose you should be swearing to any god, Mr. Jones, for I fear you will be meeting them  _ very  _ soon.” 

 

The Penguin smiled down at Mikey, his words a promise to be delivered however Edward saw fit. Oswald’s head droned with images of the way Edward might choose to take Mickey’s life, how the man might put his personal mark on the ritual. 

 

“Osw--,” Ed sucked in a small gasp, “ _ oh dear. _ ” 

 

“That your little freak side piece, huh? Don’t look too pretty to me, I like ‘em with more meat on their bones, this one’s like a goddamn stick figure,” Mikey gave a gruff laugh at his own taunt.

 

“Now that is  _ quite  _ enough, Mr. Jones.” 

 

Oswald approached the low level criminal, arms behind his back in a mocking display of what little defense he required around Mikey. The quick introduction of his pistol to the bridge of Mikey’s nose was all it took to inspire silence. The first glimpse of blood poured from his mouth. It was electric.

 

“Now that our guest is settled in,” Oswald beckoned his love over, “Edward, meet Mikey Jones. Mr. Jones, meet your executioner.” 

 

Oswald felt like a child in a room of sweets. 

 

Ed stared wordlessly at the evening’s entertainment. Oswald wished he could reach inside and pluck every thought from Edward’s head, pour over each one and soothe any fears that manifested. This was to be the turning point for both of them, something to be celebrated. This was Edward’s divine right and Oswald felt he was the luckiest man alive to be granted the honor of witness.  

“Come now my love, we have been planning this for sometime,” Oswald reached a comforting hand to calm trembling arms, “I know you are ready for this.” 

 

Ed flicked his gaze between Mikey and Oswald, stopping once to focus on thin air with a small nod of agreement. Ed approached the tray of tools, running curious fingertips over the array of cool metal. Everything from a dentist drill to a simple handgun. If the man had any proclivities, Oswald had surely supplied for them. 

 

“You really drop to your knees for  _ Penguin _ ,” Mikey spit a mixture of blood and vile vocabulary onto the floor, “I was right about you two, ‘Beanpole Bends Over for Gotham’s Biggest  _ Freak _ ,’ I think it’d make quite the headl--”

 

“Don’t you  **_DARE_ ** talk about him like that!” 

 

Mikey’s self righteous speech was cut short by Edward’s quick grab of a scalpel from the tray, dug deeply into Mikey’s left shoulder. So the man favored a blade, Oswald took careful note of that. The gangster was hardly able to get out a scream before Edward removed the knife only to relocate it to Mikey’s left thigh. Oh, how their adversary yowled and pleaded, the blood surging violently from his femoral artery. 

 

“Would you care to comment about  _ that  _ you half-witted gorilla,” Edward’s voice came through deep and with an explosive laughter Oswald had never heard before. He was positively animalistic. He was insane. He was unspeakably beautiful. 

 

Edward’s gaze focused meaningfully on the bloodied metal. Streaks of scarlet ran down pale flesh. It remained the only thing that Oswald felt could possibly rival the colors left by his own hands. Edwards attention returned to Mikey, his head now slumped forward and bleeding from more places than he had likely anticipated when he had woken up that morning. Edward reached for the back of Mikey’s head, grabbing a fistful of the man’s hair to roughly yank his head upright. The criminal’s eyes roamed unfocused, clearly giving in to the rapid blood loss. 

 

“Now, just for fun, how about a riddle?” 

 

Ed gripped Mikey’s face in one hand, gesturing dramatically with the other, “The more you cut me, the bigger I get. What am I?” 

 

Mikey gathered his last bit of strength, which Oswald regarded as incredibly little, in a perplexed facial expression. His breathing grew ever labored and ragged. 

 

“How’s about you and your little rat-faced sweetheart go fu--”

 

Oswald watched the blade glide slowly across the man’s throat, his words washed away by the cascade of crimson trailing behind Edward’s cut. The curtain drawn on his final act.

 

“ _ WRONG,”  _ Edward shouted at the unconscious Mikey, “you lose, Mr. Jones. Better luck next time.”

 

Edward drove the knife into the man’s right shoulder and barked another unreserved laugh. Ashes to ashes, insult to injury. Ed straightened his posture, tugged at the bottom of his suit jacket, and placed the scalpel back in its place. He turned in an about-face to Oswald, the sight nearly knocking every ounce of breath from the kingpin. If freckles were the kiss of an angel, the blood splattered over Edward’s face was death’s sweet attention. Each spot a small promise that Edward Nygma was no longer two halves of one mismatched puzzle, but rather a whole man. A free man.

 

Blood and baptism. Their divine passage. 


	13. And It Begins

Ed stared reverently at his bloodied hands, his mind awash in the brilliance of finally understanding what Riddler had been trying to lead him towards all along. For the first time in countless years, his thoughts were quiet. The only thing Ed heard was the sound of his own heartbeat and soft, uneven breath in the corner of the room. 

 

_ Oswald. _

 

He turned to face his beloved, feeling an unusual sense of pride crack and pop in his chest. Now he was worthy, now Edward could face Oswald and know they deserved each other, for worse or worser. Oswald’s eyes were bleary, his mouth hung open in an awe that sent a wave of heat to the pit of Edward’s stomach.

 

Ed approached the incredulous man in the corner, brushing bloodied fingertips over taut, pale skin. He memorized every rise and fall of Oswald’s face, trailing ruby and emerald in his wake. 

 

“Edward you--you were positively  _ marvelous _ ,” Oswald whispered.

 

Ed ran his thumb along Oswald’s lip as he spoke, content to busy himself with the new light in which he viewed his prized bird, confident and assured. Oswald’s eyelids fluttered at the careful attention. Ed took the opportunity to lean forward and place a soft kiss on trembling lips. He hummed at the taste of Oswald’s skin mixing with metallic smudges of Mikey’s blood left behind by Ed’s ministrations. The small sound Oswald emitted brought a deviant smile to Ed’s face, still keeping parted lips pressed to his. 

 

“And I have only you to thank, Oswald.” 

 

“Oh no, truly you were the man of honor today,” Oswald looked away, depriving Edward of pink dusted over the man’s cheeks.

 

Ed brought green eyes back into focus when he held Oswald’s chin in a stern grip, eliciting another soft noise of surprise from him. 

 

“Oswald, you are the only one who has seen what I am capable of, the only one who has known my potential before I knew it myself. Anyone else would shy away from what you’ve seen today, but you’ve cultivated it, encouraged me to live as I truly am. What you know I can still become.” 

 

Edward clasped both of Oswald’s hands in his own and marveled at how perfectly they fit under his, green beginning to glow over the fingertips that peaked out. He ran mindless shapes over the other man’s skin, his knuckles and the back of his wrist, anywhere that would reveal the color. Oswald gaped at the display, an air of confusion in his expression. 

 

“The colors? How? When Riddler touched me--”

 

“You proved you can love  _ all  _ of me Oswald. Him and I are no longer two different sides of the same coin. I am The Riddler and I am Edward Nygma. Some people in this world are lucky enough to find their soulmate--you were lucky enough to find two.”

 

Ed pressed gentle kisses to backs of pale knuckles, Oswald had done his part to soothe Ed when he had needed it most, it was long past due to return the favor. 

 

“But, Edward I don’t understand--nothing  _ happened  _ when He touched me, does that not mean His heart belongs to someone else?” 

 

“Arguing logistics with you is a terrible mood-suppressant, Oswald.” Ed harped but heeded the pout on Oswald’s face with gravity. 

 

“I believe we found a loophole in the mythology,” Ed turned his attentions to the sensitive area of Oswald’s inner wrist, receiving a pleased shiver for his efforts, “I see it like this--Riddler was not entirely a man though he took over my likeness when he appeared. An idea trapped in my head seems rather unworthy of a soulmate don’t you agree?”

 

Oswald stayed quiet, Ed supposed it was best he didn’t hear an answer to that question. 

 

“It was why nothing happened when we touched you. He was not your soulmate, He was not anyone’s. It wasn’t until you proved you could truly love me--love us both, that we could stop living in our self-made purgatory. It is precisely why I remain so grateful for all you have done for me Oswald, and I hope you can see that now.” 

 

Ed silently cursed Oswald’s choice to wear so many layers of fabric, the man cut a fine figure but it was a terrible hindrance for Edward’s wish to continue placing soft kisses up his arm. Oswald stayed stunned in his position, his eyes still glassy from unshed tears.

 

“Oswald,” Ed relented his useless efforts in trying to reach anymore skin under the suit jacket, “I need to know you understand.”

 

“Yes-- _ yes _ Edward, I understand. I am just as grateful for everything you continue to sacrifice in being with me. Risking so much for so little.” 

 

Ed hummed, brushing the smaller man’s knuckles over his lips, “I would gladly sacrifice my life for the greatest thing I have ever known, Oswald.” 

 

* * *

Oswald’s head buzzed with such lucid confessions. To see Edward kill for Oswald’s honor was enough, knowing Ed would offer his life in such a way was profoundly divine. Oswald stifled the small noise he made at the feeling of Edward’s lips ghosting over his hands, such intimate attention brought building heat to the tips of his ears. The kingpin was happy to watch emerald trail behind the pink of Edward’s lips, even something so small and sweet as those kisses had Oswald entirely  enraptured.

 

Edward was quick to ensure small and sweet were not his end goal.

 

Oswald felt the parting of Edward’s lips against his upturned palm, brown eyes flicked upwards to meet green. Ed used his grip on both of Oswald’s hands to pull the man closer and Oswald relished in the deep warmth of his partner’s body under the suit fabric. 

 

“Now, where did you two leave off?” Edward grinned fiendishly. 

 

Oswald’s face erupted in a flush at the mention of his short romp with The Riddler. 

 

“Not that I care to remember  _ that _ little stunt,” Oswald shifted his eyes in hopes of avoiding the brunt of Ed’s intense gaze. 

 

“Tut, tut Oswald,” Ed ran his hands along the taut muscles of his boyfriend’s back, “don’t be modest, dear.” 

 

He delighted in Oswald’s shiver under his fingertips, goading the man only slightly to see what reaction it might glean. Edward couldn’t help imagining trails of emerald dance across pale skin, he might fancy himself an artist with the most hallowed canvas. Oswald’s eyelids began to droop with the comforting touch. Edward would have been content to stay that way all night had it not been for his intense desire to recreate that fated moment between The Riddler and his bird, this time with the added benefit of full consciousness. 

 

“Modesty is not among my strongest qualities.” Oswald finally peeked at Ed through dark lashes. 

 

Ed’s breath caught in his throat, “I would expect nothing less from the King of Gotham.” 

 

Oswald’s lips parted slightly at the mention of his most cherished moniker. Edward took the opportunity to press a searing kiss against a willing and eager mouth. Oswald’s hands quickly balled in the green fabric of Ed’s suit, a pattern the taller man felt he would gladly encourage. Ed placed his hands firmly on either side of Oswald’s face to better access the warmth of parted lips. The man’s inexperience was terribly endearing, Ed couldn’t help the chuckle that rumbled in his chest when Oswald’s lips struggled to find the correct angle. 

 

Oswald stepped back, hands still balled in Ed’s jacket, “I’m sorry Edward, I am afraid this is not my greatest area of expertise.”

 

“Oswald,” Ed lifted the man’s chin with a crooked finger, “I promise none of that matters to me. You only have to relax and let me guide you, do not hesitate to stop this if you are uncomfortable in any way.” 

 

A small smile of relief cast itself across Oswald’s face. 

 

“And besides, I find myself incredibly attracted to the idea of being the only man who will ever have you this way,” Ed added with a lilt. 

 

Oswald’s face lit up in a dark pink flush, his eyes wide as Ed had ever seen them. Ed decided to set up a little experiment of his own, a silent question posed earlier in their time together, just how far did Oswald’s people-pleasing skills stretch? 

 

Ed poised himself behind the frozen mob boss, hands soothing over tense shoulders. 

 

“Oswald, I want you to get on the bed. Can you do that for me?” 

 

Calculate, plan the procedure, and execute the results. It was something Edward could understand, he hoped it would make this all much easier for Oswald to enjoy.  

 

The nervous kingpin nodded slowly and hobbled over to the bed, staring determinedly as if he had forgotten how to use the damned thing. Edward once again stood behind his boyfriend, taking in the view of his trim waist and slender legs, a nicely complimented behind in slim fit trousers pulled the entire picture together. 

 

“Would you like me to help you?” 

 

He started, nearly forgetting about his partner’s presence, “No, no. Don’t be silly Edward, I don’t need anything of the sort.” 

 

Oswald sat himself in the middle of the bed, occupying his fidgeting fingers with silk sheets. Ed unhooked either cufflink, focusing on the movement and not the nervous man still overly occupied with linens, in hopes that averting attention would allow him to calm down. He stopped at loosening his tie and folding his suit jacket nicely over the end of the bed frame. Ed would not deny the amusement of Oswald’s squirming the longer he took to begin. 

 

“Edward-,” Oswald cut himself off. 

 

Ed perked up, finally facing his partner. 

 

“Oswald, if there is something you want you are going to have to ask for it, I am not going to read your mind.” 

 

There was that small wriggle again. It was devilish entertainment. 

 

“I want--I want you to come here,” Oswald said, this time with a bit more resolve. 

 

Ed gave a small nod and kneeled on the soft mattress, taking his time in reaching Oswald, stopping just short of the man’s bent knees. Oswald sat with his back pressed against the headboard, legs tucked up in a defensive position. Ed eyed the closed off pose, putting both hands on Oswald’s knees and firmly pushing them apart. 

 

“Now then, how am I supposed to get to you like this?”

 

Ed pressed his hands under Oswald’s behind, taking a quick second to bathe in the small squawk it pulled from the man before pulling up and flipping them both. Ed settled Oswald comfortably onto his lap, in little hurry to re-position his hands. Oswald instinctively grabbed tight to Edward’s shoulders for balance, the look of utter surprise on his face was perfectly priceless. 

 

“I much prefer this way,” Edward moved to begin unbuttoning Oswald’s suit coat and vest, “easier to get these  _ annoying _ layers out of my way.” 

 

* * *

 

Oswald’s breath caught in his throat at the feeling of Edward’s knuckles grazing against his chest when he began the pursuit of removing the suit. Nobody had so much as seen Oswald without a tie before, to be faced with such vulnerable dealings was frightening. What if he was disappointing? What if Edward recoiled at the sight of his twisted edges and marred skin from years of servitude under cruel employers? Oswald’s suits were his armor, proof that he was no longer the poor boy of his youth, they were his power and his identity. 

 

Oswald placed shaking hands over the determined ones nearly finished with the last button. Ed stopped immediately and Oswald felt his shoulders relax.

 

“Oswald, what’s wrong?” 

 

The look of genuine concern on Edward’s face made Oswald feel relieved and silly all at once. 

 

“It’s nothing my dear. Really I am overreacting--”   
  
Oswald felt his chin tilted up to meet Edward’s assessing gaze.

 

“Tell me what’s wrong.”    
  


The words were not harsh or demanding, they held a soft guidance in their own right. 

 

“I--,” Oswald wished Ed would let him look away, forced to swallow the kindness of deep brown eyes, “I am afraid what you’ll think of me, without the layers of fabric to hide my shame.” 

 

Ed’s face settled near impossible sincerity, “Your shame? You think you have anything to ashamed of.” 

 

“I _ just _ \--don’t want to disappoint you with,” Oswald fiddled with the final button, “this.” 

 

Ed nodded slowly, his eyes betraying a mind millions of miles away. Oswald could feel a deep sickness swirling in his stomach.  _ Why  _ had even put the idea in Edward’s head? Perhaps Ed would never have noticed--if only he had kept his damn mouth shut.  _ If only _ \--

 

Oswald was abruptly pulled from his brooding by the feeling of full lips tracing over his collarbone, from one side and then the next. Skin bathed in the heat of the careful attention, Oswald hardly noticed fingertips stroking over the softness of his stomach. Edward was slow and languid in his actions, never breaking contact as he moved to kiss over Oswald’s chest. The rivers of emerald cascaded over pale skin and Edward pulled back to admire his work.

 

“You are  _ heavenly _ , absolutely intoxicating.” 

 

Oswald felt large palms move to a firm hold on his back, pressing both men closer in their shared heat. 

 

“I would gladly spend hours-- _ days _ \--exploring every inch of you, Oswald. I could see works of art sculpted and crafted, all inspired by the graceful lines of your figure.” 

 

Ed titled his head up to reach Oswald’s neck, mouthing at delicate skin and whispering breathless confessions, promises between himself and Oswald’s body that were strictly theirs to keep. Oswald’s chest heaved against the fabric of Edward’s own suit, his mind adrift in the impossibly sweet affection, it was hard to tell which way was up or down. He drowned with a smile, inhaling reassurance and gasping vows into his lungs. 

 

“I want to prove my devotion to every area you deem unworthy, the way you showed me. You swore your allegiance to love what I could not, and I will be damned if I cannot do the same.” 

 

Ed threaded fingers into short, black hair and pulled, Oswald did his best to focus frenzied eyes on his partner’s face. He nodded quickly, trying and failing to form any semblance of sound. Oswald instead focused on what he wanted in that moment, to tear fabric away from the prize underneath and see his violet mark flow over Edward’s strong chest. He nearly tore each button off to divest Edward, making a silent note to buy the man an entire wardrobe when it was all over. When he’d finally uncovered Edward’s torso and pushed back the layers as far down long arms as they would go, Oswald connected his lips with pronounced collarbones. He did his best to mimic Edward’s movements, still entirely unsure what to do but decidedly confident in what sounds he wanted to pull from his soulmate. When a deep groan rumbled in his chest, Oswald was sure to keep his lips locked on Edward’s pulse point. He gave an experimental nip at the sensitive skin and drew yet another pleased sound from the man. Ed’s hips gave an unexpected jerk at the sensation, jostling Oswald in his position on the man’s lap. Oswald pulled back with wide eyes, enchanted that anything he had done could cause such a reaction.

 

“I want you to do that again.” 

 

Ed gave a breathy laugh, smoothing his hands over Oswald’s sides.

 

“Then make me do it again.” 

 

Oswald furrowed his brow, he had quickly run out of moves to imitate, left to his own inexperienced vices. The feeling of Edward’s smooth palms running over the bare skin of his sides did little to help his concentration. Oswald tried to recall what had caused Riddler to react in their short time together. He refocused attention on the opposite side of Edward’s neck, biting with greater pressure and grinding his hips down. 

 

“Oh  _ dear _ ,” Ed sighed and pressed his forehead against Oswald’s shoulder, moving his wandering hands to grip tightly at thin hips. 

 

Oswald glanced down in wonderment at the sight of his chest decorated with a disjointed pattern of green light, the mirrored movement of violet on Edward’s own skin was indescribable. It had only been hands and cheeks brushed by wandering fingers before then, but to have such expansive proof of their interconnection was the closest Oswald had come to a religious experience. Every inch of his skin gleamed where Edward touched him, magnificent and marvelous, it felt more exhilarating than consuming an entire crate of the world’s finest Chianti. 

 

Oswald sucked in a sharp breath when Edward pushed himself upwards, their clothed excitement straining for desperate friction against tight fabric. Hands found their way back to the short locks of Oswald’s hair, forcing him to focus on Edward’s heated stare. Words seemed trivial as their bodies moved together in such a shameless display. Oswald wrapped his arms around Ed’s neck to keep balanced, pressing a frenzied kiss to the other man’s lips and running a curious tongue along the seam. The nervous kingpin finally felt a sort of confidence when he explored the wet heat of Edward’s mouth, swallowing an eager moan and delighting in its taste. Oswald was quick to lose any control over his partner when the man began to teasingly stroke him through his trousers. The movement was slow and agonizing, the feeling of teeth peeking between soft lips told Oswald how calculated a pace it was. An annoyingly, arousing display of antagonism. 

 

Oswald let out a high pitched whine, trying to press harder into the palm of Edward’s hand. 

 

“You are terribly needy, Oswald.” 

 

His chest rumbled against Oswald’s own, an already deep voice dropped to a low-pitched gravel. 

 

“And you are going to deny the King of Gotham what he needs?” 

 

Oswald tried to square his shoulders, create some appearance of pride but rutting into Edward’s hand like a desperate adolescent’s first time in the sticky backseat of a car was less than becoming. 

 

“No,” Edward flashed an impish smile before flipping their position so Oswald’s back pressed against the mattress, “but I will make you beg for it.” 

 

* * *

 

The brazen promise tickled Oswald’s spine and sent a pleasurable chill to the base of his neck. 

 

“I’m afraid empty promises n-never get a man far in this business,” Oswald’s words tripped each other towards the finish line. 

 

That devilish smile reformed on Edward’s lips, “You’ll find my promises bountiful, I assure you.”

He refocused his attentions on the pale skin of Oswald’s chest, moving ever lower and ever slower down his body.

 

_ One.  _ A gentle kiss to his pulse point. 

 

_ Two.  _ A simultaneous swipe of his tongue over one nipple and the pad of his thumb over the other. 

 

_ Three.  _ A searing kiss to the sensitive skin that met the edge of his trousers. 

 

Oswald interrupted the symphony of sensation with a whining moan poorly held back by sealed lips and a lacking resolve. His breathing kept sporadic time in their shared composition, only soothed in the slightest by a soft coo of his name. 

 

“Oswald-- _ Oswald _ ,” Ed whispered. 

 

Edward looked up through dark lashes, Oswald’s unrelenting tension only worsened by the suggestive positioning of Edward between his legs, breath teasing over the strained tent in the front of his uncomfortably tight dress pants. The damned things had fit fine before Edward began his shameless ministrations. 

 

“I need to know you are still comfortable, that this is not too much for you. If I am going too fast, we can always st--”

 

“No!” 

 

Oswald recoiled at his humiliating enthusiasm, “I mean, of course not Edward. This is all progressing at a rather--agreeable rate.”  

 

Edward easily dropped his commanding facade with bubbling laughter. 

 

“An ‘agreeable rate’? Your pillowtalk would make a sinner blush.” 

 

Ed rolled his eyes with a warm smile still spread across his lips, resting his head on Oswald’s hip and gazing up with a look that could only be described as pure wonderment. Oswald crossed his arms in a faux pout, huffing and averting his stare to an, albeit less interesting, fixture in the room. 

 

“Oh, come now dear, there’s no need to sulk.” 

 

Oswald would have been content to keep up the sulking game a bit longer had it not been for teeth pulling at the button on his trousers. Edward’s nose grazed against the soft trail of hair on Oswald’s stomach, the feeling in his gut was a deep and delicious pull--toward what he hadn’t the foggiest idea but the prospect of finding out seemed a worthy cause. Edward used slow and teasing fingers to pull down the zipper, cupping Oswald one last time through fabric before dipping past the waistband of his briefs. He finally released Oswald from the confines of uncomfortably tight clothing, Ed’s delicate fingers stroked lazily down his length, an infuriating tease that left Oswald’s skin searing with untapped frustration. 

 

“Edward I--”   
  


He stopped, waited with a patient stare.

 

Oswald  _ writhed,  _ pushed his hips up to meet nothing. Hot and heavy as the air felt pouring into his lungs, it did not seem to serve a real purpose. 

 

“What did you want to tell me, Oswald?”

 

Ed quirked a small smile. His tone suggested casual conversation, not a single care for Oswald’s mounting impatience, the way his hands balled into the sheets for some kind of stability. 

 

Oswald jerked his head up to meet Edward’s mock innocence, “I need you, Edward.  _ Please _ .” 

 

Oswald choked on his own desperation, let the vile thing slither up his throat with little protest. It coiled heavy on his tongue, the taste like a bitter pill--sour and entirely too necessary. Oswald would carve the hunger into his own flesh, mirror the pattern over Edward’s skin if that was what it took to be understood, for Edward to know he was wanted. 

 

* * *

 

The words rained from Oswald’s lips, Edward wished he could bottle them for his personal cure-all. 

 

Though Ed supposed Oswald had enough, as much as he reveled in the sight of his boyfriend squirming, awash in silken sheets like true royalty. If Edward had his way, he would happily spend hours conducting meticulous research over every inch of Oswald’s body. Sketch the imperfections, map out every freckle and scar, pour over the details. His king, his deity,  _ his _ Oswald.  _ His, his, his-- _

 

Shook his head. Broke the trance. There was still a very needy mob boss begging beneath his lips. Edward gave an experimental swipe of his tongue over the head of Oswald’s cock, the minor action eliciting a sweet keen from the man below him. 

 

A successful experiment and a simple solution--do anything that would keep Oswald making such exquisite noises. 

 

Ed sucked the head gently into his mouth and gave a number of teasing flicks with his tongue, still glowing inwardly at the soft whimpers it drew from his partner. Ed ventured a glance up at Oswald, the man’s eyes blown wide in near disbelief, his chest and cheeks painted a beautiful blush. Edward’s own cock strained against his trousers, worsened so by the state of Oswald’s dishevelment. Ed pulled his lips away, relishing in the obscenity of a saliva trail that still connected them. He didn’t wait to hear any plea from the smaller man, much as he would have liked to, merely set his sights on getting as much of Oswald’s skin against his as possible.

 

Ed pulled away the remainder of offending clothes, finally able to admire the entirety of his partner’s breathtaking form. 

 

“Incredible,” Ed whispered. 

 

Oswald was striking in every way a man could be, pale skin and a litany of scars suggested fragility but Edward only saw power laced through every muscle. 

 

He positioned himself to take the head of Oswald’s cock back into his mouth, desiring nothing more than to recapture the taste of his beloved. Oswald arched his back in an elegant curve and Edward watched the minute reactions with careful eyes. The way his boyfriend’s mouth fell open, the rise and fall of his heaving breath, it was proper intoxication. Ed sank lower and hallowed his cheeks, finally beginning to move at a steady pace. 

 

He was rewarded handsomely.

 

“Oh,  _ Edward _ .” 

 

Oswald’s fingers wound tightly through curly locks, giving a painful tug that only worsened Ed’s own frustration. He mirrored his partner’s desperate moan, rutting against the fabric beneath him, the friction created by slippery sheets serving as little relief. Oswald’s hips jerked, driving himself deeper into Edward’s mouth with another whine. 

 

Ed gripped thin hips to keep them pinned to the bed, a violent eruption of emerald bloomed across the porcelain canvas where his fingers pressed. It was very unlike the serenity of their marks before, somehow brighter and demanding to be seen. Ed massaged small circles with his thumbs, doing his best to focus on the virescent trails and his partner still weakly bucking into his mouth. 

 

“Ed-Edward, if I have done-- _god_ \--something to warrant t-this endless torture I would rather you say it out right. Anything, _anything_ to remedy this.” Oswald huffed through labored breaths. 

 

Edward pulled away, swirling his tongue over Oswald’s cock one last time and earning an impatient scowl for his efforts. 

 

“There’s the fiery man I love so dearly,” Edward smiled with spit-slicked lips. 

 

* * *

“If you loved me, you’d fuck me,” Oswald challenged.

 

The surprise in Edward’s face was nearly worth the agonizing tease, how that man’s eyes shot open at the use of such unbecoming language. Fifty cent words from a million dollar man were rare to come by. 

 

Ed surged forward to capture Oswald’s lips in a desperate kiss, teeth nipped and hands wound their way into dark hair. Edward guided Oswald’s legs to wrap around his slender waist, the smaller man’s arms finding easy purchase in an embrace around strong shoulders. Oswald clawed desperately at Edward’s back, giving little thought to the wanting mewls that echoed from deep in his chest. Proper oxygen seemed entirely unnecessary as Edward breathed new life into him, devoured each pleading moan like a condemned man to his final meal. Both men damned and eager to die his little death. 

 

Oswald felt the rough pad of a thumb trace over his bottom lip, Edward’s eyes locked on the motion, swiping back and forth in complete awe. Oswald took the finger into his mouth, enraptured by the concentration on Edward’s face. All of the attention was Oswald’s to keep. To have and to hold. Violet light ebbed over Edward’s shoulders, pale skin nearly eclipsed by the halo of his marker. Everywhere he flushed a purple hue, bright as the morning and twice as compelling. Oswald wrapped a hesitant hand around Edward’s wrist, letting the thumb slip out of his mouth. 

 

Edward exhaled a broken sigh.

 

Oswald inhaled two slender fingers. 

 

Let them smooth across his tongue, take in the small details while Oswald busied himself with wetting each one thoroughly. His gaze never faltered, determined that Ed bear witness to this unbecoming. A strong hand wrapped itself around Oswald’s neck, not nearly enough pressure to restrict or harm, but a warning of Edward’s mercy. Oswald pressed into the grip, keeping his gaze locked on hypnotic brown eyes in a silent promise that he trusted Edward implicitly. 

 

Ed withdrew his fingers and leaned back on his heels with a noise of protest from Oswald. Though, the man’s lithe form being entirely in view left very little to complain about. Oswald felt his cheeks redden when his eyes settled on the way Edward’s erection strained up near the soft skin of his stomach, the faint purple hue still dusted over his body. 

 

“Lubricant.” 

 

Oswald nearly jumped out of skin, “What? I--what?”

 

“Do you have lubricant or something that might be an adequate substitute?” Edward quirked an eyebrow like he was asking about the morning weather.

 

Oswald felt his mouth move but words seemed to fail him. 

 

“A regular water-based lubricant is fine, if not I am sure your housekeeper must have some type of grapeseed or olive oil we could use. I--”

 

“Ed! Did we not already cover that with the,” Oswald loosened the discomfort in his voice, “ _ previous activity _ ?” 

 

Ed scoffed, “Oh dear, no. Saliva does not come close to the necessary amount of lubrication you will need. This is your first time having sex of any kind, is that correct?”   
  
Oswald crossed defensive arms over his chest, sinking lower onto the bed. 

 

“Christ, Edward and you poke fun at  _ my  _ bedroom talk?” 

 

Ed’s smile returned annoyingly warm and reassuring. He leaned back over Oswald, taking care to place chaste kisses on his heated cheeks. 

 

“Oswald, what did we say about pouting? I only want to make you feel good, to pull more of those wonderful sounds from you,” Ed muttered into blushing ears. 

 

“I-I suppose I will let you try.”   
  


Edward hummed, “Good boy.” 

 

Oswald’s cock twitched at the praise, his eyes blown wide and unfocused on dead space. Edward was sifting through the side drawer, seemed to find what he wanted and eased Oswald to lie back. 

 

“Lubricant and protection at the ready, perhaps I spoke too soon. I think you may have been a very  _ bad  _ boy, Oswald,” Ed teased. 

 

Oswald  struggled to swallow the steadily building lump in his throat. 

 

Praise felt good. Degradation felt decadent. 

 

Ed’s teeth worried at the shell of Oswald’s ear while his hands guided slender legs around his hips. 

 

“Keep your legs here, I don’t want you straining your bad knee,” Ed smiled soft and sweet. 

 

Oswald nodded, snaking his arms behind Edward’s neck and running nervous fingers through wispy curls. He felt a hesitant fingertip press against his entrance. 

 

“Tell me if you are uncomfortable. I will stop at any point,” Edward pressed a deep kiss to Oswald’s lips, “I love you.” 

 

Oswald felt his grin reach from ear to ear, “I love you too, Edward.” 

 

* * *

The first press into him earned a slight hiss, Edward checking to make sure he had coated his fingers sufficiently. Oswald’s eyes flickered closed, his breath labored and uneven. Ed leaned forward, easily covering the smaller man’s body with his own. A free hand reached up to soothe Oswald anyway he could, rubbing small circles into pale skin and brushing the dark hairs out of his face.

 

Edward could still feel Oswald struggling to relax around his finger. He moved the wandering hand over his partner’s chest, feeling a very telling and thundering heartbeat. The signature warmth of their marker spread beneath the palm of Ed’s hand and he kissed Oswald once more to encourage focus on something other than the uncomfortable sensation. Ed bent his finger slightly, noting the way Oswald’s eyelids fluttered, how his breath stuttered just enough to tell Edward it was the right move. He kept steady pace, attention drawn on the slight push of Oswald’s hips.

 

Ed added a second finger and then a third, making sure to give Oswald enough time for adjustment in between. The man was writhing, hardly capable of pronouncing Ed’s name in its entirety. 

 

“ _ E-d, Edwa-oh god,”  _ Oswald keened. 

 

Ed felt an insatiable hunger in his stomach, to claim, to  _ possess _ . He wished to take everything Oswald would give him and lock it away where no one could find it, every whimper, every plea was Ed’s to keep. He took Oswald’s chin in a rough grip, still steadily driving three fingers into the mess of a man. 

 

“I need to know what you want, Oswald, I am not going to guess. Nod once for ‘yes’, shake your head for ‘no’, is that clear?” 

 

Oswald nodded. 

 

Ed smiled, such an obedient little bird.  

 

“Good boy,” Oswald clenched around Ed’s fingers, “do you like it when I call you that?”

 

A nod. 

 

“Well you are being a very good boy, Oswald. Do you want me to make you cum like this? With just my fingers?”

 

A desperate shake. 

 

“Okay then, look at me Oswald,” Ed urged. 

 

His knees nearly buckled at the heavy desire in Oswald’s eyes, fingers stuttering in their pace. 

 

Ed leaned down to Oswald’s ear, “Do you want me to fuck you?”

 

Oswald’s legs tightened painfully around his waist, a pathetic plea whined from his partner’s throat. 

 

“Edward,  _ yes. _ ”

 

Ed lined himself up with a desperate growl. Bad as he wanted to ruin Oswald, to take the man apart and scatter each piece so no one else might know this happiness, he took time letting Oswald adjust to the feeling. Listened intently to squeaks of discomfort become sighs of satisfaction. Only when Oswald has completely relaxed did he start moving, breathless at the unbelievably tight heat. Ed kissed Oswald, slow and deep, happy to feel the man’s tongue swipe across his bottom lip. Their passion easily turned sloppy and desperate the faster Edward moved, keeping one hand under Oswald’s bad knee at all times for proper support. Warmth spread over each man’s body, their marker encompassing the other in a beautiful spectre of light. Green and purple, the perfect compliment to each other’s soul so stubborn it wouldn’t try to be contained. The sheen of virescent and violet blanketed each man, surrounding them in a world all their own. 

 

Edward silently thanked whoever was listening for deeming him worthy of such a good thing. 

 

_ I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. _

 

Ed chanted it like an ancient prayer against Oswald’s lips, matching each one with the rhythm of his hips. Oswald cried out, fisting one hand tightly in Edward’s hair and the other’s fingernails dug deeply into his shoulder blade. Ed hoped the tiny crescents of blunt nails might scar him, make their permanent mark. 

 

“Ed--Edward, I’m,” Oswald tried and failed.

 

Ed knew what he meant, could feel a similar tightness in his belly. He wrapped a hand around Oswald’s cock, stroking in time as best he could, his partner a litany of repeating pleas. 

 

Oswald’s eyes shot open, Ed graced with the sight of bright blue eyes and a mouth hanging uselessly agape. Edward pressed himself against Oswald, felt the telling jolt of orgasam while his partner huffed against his ear. Ed latched onto pale skin while he chased his own end. 

 

Everything seemed to blend into pure calm once Edward pulled out of Oswald, soothing the man’s still-shaking legs with soft caresses. The room was quiet save for steadying breath. Ed disposed of the soiled protection, wiped his hand haphazardly on some piece of clothing and climbed back into the inviting warmth of Oswald’s bed. 

 

_ Their _ bed. 

 

Ed wrapped his arms around Oswald, pulling the exhausted man against his chest, their colors still glowing like embers of a tired fire. 

 

Ed hummed into sweat-dampened locks, “You were marvelous, my little bird.” 

 

Oswald squirmed happily in his arms. 

 

“And you were unhinged. You were like some desperate, howling demon. You frightened me,” Oswald looked up to meet Ed’s reverent gaze, “Do it again.”

 

Ed smiled and kissed Oswald softly. 

 

“I seem to have made a monster,” Ed gave a breathy laugh.

 

“I suppose that means I will require more practice. Maybe soon enough you won’t have to treat me like some fragile thing, in danger of cracking at any second.” 

 

Oswald clearly meant no harm with his words, but they sat askew in Ed’s stomach. 

 

“Oswald, I don’t see you as some ‘fragile thing’, I only wanted to make this as comfortable an experience as possible. It is important to me that you know I see no weakness in you.” Edward insisted. 

 

Oswald sat up as far as he could, still tangled in Ed’s arms, his face held a playful mirth. 

 

“I understand Edward,” he brought a hand to Ed’s cheek, “and I love you for being so careful with me.” 

 

He place a chaste kiss to Ed’s lips. Soft and warm and everything the afterglow should be. 

 

“I hope you know, Oswald, I would do anything for you.” 

* * *

 

Edward’s words were honey in his ears, spice in his mouth. The heated air cocooned both men, comfortable and heavy in the aftermath.  His promise filled the expansive bedroom and sat snug in each corner, watched with bated breath how Oswald might respond. The weight of the words kept their syllables anchored to the floorboards, wear and tear that would never need patching. If Oswald could, he would reach across those four corners and place every letter in its own frame, thank them when he woke up each morning for what they meant to him. 

 

Oswald didn’t think any reply would be sufficient to explain the depth of their meaning, even, “I love you” felt trivial. So he wrapped himself around Edward, face buried against the man’s chest, violet light eeking out around the corners of his eyes. It was silent reverence. It was majesty in its highest order. 

 

And it was a  _ damn  _ good thing. 

  
  


* * *

 

Victor stared perplexed at the highest window of the manor, stopped in his tracks during nightly rounds. What he knew to be Oswald’s room was practically a beacon of light, purple and green crossed over the other, glowing brighter and brighter the longer Victor watched. 

 

“Hey, ‘Hunter,” Victor beckoned his partner, “you  _ gotta  _ come see this.” 

 

Headhunter grumbled and trudged to Victor’s side. 

 

“What is so important, Vic-”   
  


He stopped. Observed the lights. 

 

“Ain’t that something,” Headhunter scoffed. 

 

“What do you think it could be? Aliens?” Victor didn’t try to keep the excitement from his voice. 

 

“Ali- _ Aliens _ ? Victor, do you have anything going on in that glossy dome of yours?” Headhunter mocked.

 

Victor mumbled a quiet reprimand. 

 

“Well genius, what do  _ you  _ think it is, huh.” 

 

Headhunter squinted an eye, deep in thought before snapping his fingers, “Got it! Penguin and his beanpole boyfriend, they got that soulmate thing, right? Their colors are purple and green, just like the light show going on in that window.” 

 

“How do you even--whatever. What could possibly be goin’ on up there that they got half the manor lit up like 4th of July?” Victor scratched his smooth head. 

 

Headhunter went deathly silent.

 

“Hey Vic, doesn’t that soulmate thing happen with skin-to-skin contact? Like, it makes the skin turn colors when two people touch or whatever.” 

 

“Ya, ‘Hunter that’s what they say but I don’t see why the bosses would be--,”   
  


Victor’s silence met his partner’s. Both men sheepishly embarrassed to still be looking at the window. 

 

“Hey, ‘Hunter?”

 

“Ya, Vic?”

 

“Want to pretend like we didn’t just stumble onto our two bosses bumpin’ uglies in the middle of the night?”

 

“Ya, Vic.” 

 

Both men wandered to the opposite side of the mansion. And if they avoided looking Oswald in the eye that next morning, it was their business and theirs alone. 


	14. Interlude

“Babs, I do  _ not _ like this Valeska kid.”

Tabitha crossed her arms over her chest.

 

“Tabby, as much as I love the way your bottom lip sticks out when you pout like that, I cannot deal with yours and Jeremiah’s petty squabbles right now,” Barbara sighed. 

 

They had teamed up with Jeremiah nearly two weeks prior, subject to his strange plan executions and the eerie calm of handling such tricky business. And yet, for all his unsettling presence, Barbara had to admit she was impressed by the kid’s attention to detail. 

 

“Can’t we just kill Penguin, ditch the clown, and take what is rightfully ours?” Tabitha huffed. 

 

Barbara was still on Oswald’s side. Or at least, the lovesick bird thought as much. 

 

Barbara calmed her nerves before approaching Tabitha, “Tabby cat, you know we can’t do that. If Jeremiah gets a single whiff of betrayal, there’s no telling what that freak would do to us if we kept him alive. You heard his plan, kid’s got balls.”

 

Tabitha rolled her eyes, “Fine. So we kill the Penguin and  _ then  _ we off the clown. Happy?”

 

Barbara couldn’t help her amused chuckle. 

 

“I do love it when you get trigger-happy,” she snaked arms around Tabitha’s waist and nibbled at the soft skin of her ear, “but we need both alive for our plan to work, baby.”

 

Tabitha dropped the arms still wound around her, “Not now. I believe we owe the happy couple a visit.” 

 

Barbara made a mental note to steal something nice from Oswald’s office for being the reason she’d have to bury the frustration of begrudgingly releasing her girlfriend. 

 

* * *

 

“Ozzie, sweetheart! You are looking positively radiant, the boy must be keeping you active,” Barbara lilted. 

 

She held her arms out and leaned in to kiss either side of Oswald’s cheeks. Tabitha extended a stiff hand to Oswald and pointedly ignored Edward. 

 

“Tabitha, this is Edward Nygma,” Barbara gestured to the taller man, with a quick jab to Tabitha’s side, “you’ve been quite the topic of conversation between us, Mr. Nygma.” 

 

“All bad things I hope,” Oswald quipped. 

 

Barbara did her best to feign amusement at the sickeningly sweet way Oswald looked up at his partner. 

 

“About Edward? I’m afraid there’s nothing bad to tell, a perfect little angel you’ve scooped up for yourself, Oswald.” Barbara’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. 

 

Oswald rocked back on his feet, stealing another glance at Edward and a small squeeze of the mortified man’s hand. 

 

“Forgive me for sounding impolite but might I ask what this rather sudden meeting is all about, you sounded rather  _ persistent  _ on the phone.” Oswald craned his neck forward with the cadence. 

 

Barbara sucked her teeth, dragging a finger over the glass bar top and feigned interest in the nonexistent dirt. 

 

“Yes,” she dragged, “I am sorry for the intrusion. I do, however, believe it will be worth your while. Worth everyone’s.” 

 

Oswald raised an eyebrow. 

 

“I have a--friend, says he’s interested in getting his slice of what we’ve got.” 

 

Oswald scoffed, “A friend? Barbara Kean you were always good for a laugh. You of all people know how unwilling I am to allow others into  _ my _ business, why should your ‘friend’ be granted any special privilege?”

 

Barbara stood with clenched fists on her hips. 

 

“Ozzie, baby. Would I steer you wrong? What could I possibly have to gain from getting you involved with shady characters, your business is my--,”

 

Tabitha coughed. 

 

“-- _ our  _ business after all.” 

 

Oswald shifted in obvious discomfort, sharing a quick glance with Edward. Neither man trusted Barbara Kean entirely, most anyone who valued their lives never did, but the woman wasn’t blinded by greed to the point of self-sabotage. She might throw Oswald into the Gotham City river at the drop of a hat, but she would die before dragging herself down to the bottom with him. 

 

“Fine, we’ll meet with this friend of yours. Who is the mystery man anyways?” Oswald sat poised at the bar, Edward still ridged and uncertain at his side. 

 

“Jeremiah Valeska.” 

 

A suffocating silence fell over the empty club. Oswald felt blood thrum in his ears, beating relentlessly against his temples. The name may as well have grown hands and boxed the sides of his skull. 

 

“I’m--I’m sorry,  _ what _ did you just say,” he hissed. 

 

Edward stepped forward, shoulders square and towering.

 

“Ms. Kean, I have been able to stay quiet until now, I may only manage Oswald’s affairs--”

 

“Give yourself more credit, you don’t just manage the affairs, you’re one of ‘em.” Tabitha smiled with bared teeth. 

 

“ _ As _ I was saying--I may only manage Oswald’s affairs but this is completely unacceptable. Jeremiah Valeska is a threat to anyone and anything he touches. That maniac is the single biggest problem in Gotham since his brother’s death and I will not allow him anywhere near the empire Oswald has painstakingly maintained despite people like him hell-bent on utter chaos.” 

 

Edward’s shoulders heaved with the effort of his speech, fists balled and nearly crushing the papers he still held. His hair started to curl with the added stress of it all. Oswald found him breathtakingly beautiful in that moment and a frustrating distraction. 

 

Barbara clapped slowly, and mocking. 

 

“That was a beautiful speech hot stuff, but at the end of the day there is only one man who calls the shots and news flash, it ain’t you,” Barbara strolled forward, toe to toe with Edward, and glared at Oswald, “so, what’ll it be? You gonna let the spieling beanpole make your decisions now?” 

 

Oswald felt the rage boil in his veins, surging forward from his seat. 

 

“I will  _ kindly  _ ask you not to talk about Edward like that, he is as important to my operations as anyone in this room. And regarding your little sales pitch, that will be a firm no thank you. I don’t need a reckless child interfering with his silly visions of a ‘new Gotham’. Our Gotham is exactly as I want it to be, I plan on keeping it that way until I am lying stone-cold and six-feet under.” 

 

Oswald motioned for Edward to start for the hallway that led to his office. 

 

“We will discuss your behavior later, Ms. Kean. For now, I am going to ask that you and Ms. Galavan leave before I have Victor show you the way out,” Oswald seethed. 

 

Tabitha poised a hand on the whip strapped to her belt, Barbara quickly holding her off. 

 

“No need to call in your watch dog, we know the way out.” 

 

Oswald felt the rapid pulse in his neck as the women turned to leave, Barbara stopping short at the large doors of the club.

  
  
“Oh, and Oswald? A new Gotham might come sooner than you think.”

 

* * *

“How she can even  _ dare _ to waltz in here with that awful sidekick of hers, asking ridiculous requests of me--the King of Gotham--as if I am going to let some-some  _ teenager  _ run my city. I must have the word ‘fool’ written across my forehead for Barbara to even consider that I might agree. The nerve of those women--,”

 

Edward noted Oswald’s red face and the vein bulging in his neck, nearly dizzy with the amount of times the man had paced back and forth across his office. If he were going to make it a habit, Edward might see about installing carpet to minimize the insistent click of his shoes. 

 

“Oswald, it’s over now, I think you made yourself quite clear to Ms. Kean.”

 

Oswald stopped, his face in disbelief.   
  


“You know nothing about Barbara Kean, about who she really is, Edward. That woman is the single most cruel, methodical, and relentlessly annoying criminals this city has to offer,” Oswald kept his voice low, “it’s the reason I agreed to do business in the first place.”

 

“Oswald,” Ed cooed, “you’re working yourself up again, it’s not good for you.” 

 

Oswald scoffed and felt Ed press against his back, trailing soothing hands down his arms. 

 

“And for what it’s worth,” he bent lower to Oswald’s ear, “I would say you are more of a force to be reckoned with.” 

 

Oswald shivered at the teasing fingers that tickled the backs of his hands. It was hard work trying to stay angry with such a welcomed distraction to point him in the opposite direction. Ed’s lips ghosted over the nape of his neck, pressing light kisses that made him squirm. 

 

“I happen to think you are the most imposing figure this city could only dream of deserving.” 

 

Ed’s voice was low and dangerous. Oswald shivered at the memory of their shared night in blood and carnage, how unhinged his lover had been, how terrifying it was to be at his mercy. How readily Oswald would surrender himself like that again. 

 

Ed’s lips followed a path up Oswald’s bared neck, hands moving steadily towards his belt to work it open. Everything felt agonizingly slow and stifling, Ed’s touches were too light, too careful for Oswald to feel he would reap any reward. But the man continued, undoing the belt agonizingly slow, the brush of his fingertips infuriatingly light against the front of Oswald’s trousers. 

 

“Ed, please.”   
  
It was hard to understand what he was asking for, his mind awash in the suffocating cloud of Edward all around him. The smell of his hair gel, the cologne Oswald had picked out especially for him, the softness of his cotton shirt against small areas of skin showing past Oswald’s suit. The room felt like it might come alive, swallow them whole and Oswald couldn't care less, content to be swathed in his soulmates arms even if the embrace was a painful tease. Ed finally slipped the belt carefully from each loop, returning his long fingers to the zipper. Oswald could only lull his head backwards onto Ed’s shoulder, the weight suddenly too much to bear. Heavy is the head that wears the crown when the one wearing it is suffering at the hands of his taunting lover. 

 

Ed pulled the zipper faster than he did the belt, humoring Oswald for a fleeting moment before returning to his slow pace, his lips still promising ardent attention to the sensitive skin behind Oswald’s ear. 

 

“ _ Please.” _

 

Oswald was sure what he wanted now, his mind still in a fog but nonetheless it was easy to understand how desperately he craved Edward’s touch. Uncaring about where and for how long, he needed the sure hands and loving caresses that only his soulmate,  _ his  _ Edward, could provide. 

 

As if hearing his silent plea, like an omnipotent force heeding Oswald’s prayer, Edward finally slid his hands past the waistband of Oswald’s briefs. The warmth that enveloped him felt divine, even though he simply kept a hand wrapped loosely around Oswald’s stiff cock. Oswald’s chest heaved with the barrage of stimuli, Ed’s warm hands staying firmly in place and the drag of soft lips over any inch of skin they could find, he swore Ed’s strong embrace was the soul force keeping Oswald upright.  One of Ed’s hands trailed up the front of Oswald’s torso, stopping to undo the countless buttons of his waistcoat and dress shirt, he made a mental note to wear less layers if Edward planned to make this a habit. Oswald let out a soft moan when the grip on his cock tightened in sync with a sharp bite to his pulse point. He couldn’t help but jerk forward, trying to chase some semblance of pleasure with dignity long since shown the door. 

 

“ _ Ed _ ward,” Oswald would hate how weak his voice sounded if it were in anyone else’s presence. 

 

But this was Edward, he was safe and sure. 

 

“I like the way you say my name when you’re like this, so sweet and soft,” Ed’s voice rumbled in Oswald’s ear. 

 

Ed brought his free hand up to Oswald’s lips, tracing their outline and teasing before he implored them to open. 

 

“You are a very good boy, Oswald. Did you know that? So obedient, and I hardly have to say a word.” 

 

Oswald took the two fingers into his mouth, lathing them with his tongue and closing his eyes against the scrutiny of Ed’s gaze, watching intently as he did so. He moaned quietly against the feeling of Ed’s long fingers soothing over his tongue, pressing down, exploring, making Oswald’s knees weak. The moment was fleeting, Oswald opening his eyes and ready to protest before he felt that hand return to its place down the front of his pants. This time there was nothing shy about the loud groan that ripped itself from his chest, the feeling of Edward trailing two wet fingers up the length of his shaft, coating the underside in saliva and precome. The other hand finally moved, the pace still agonizingly slow for the precipice where Oswald stood, teetering between unbridled anger and rapturous pleasure. 

 

“You didn’t think I would keep you here all night, did you? As happy as I would be to see that look of delicious frustration on your face stay frozen in place, I think you have more than earned this, Oswald.” 

 

His grip tightened and Ed finally pumped Oswald at a faster pace, keeping the other hand free to swipe over the head of his cock every so often. Oswald’s skin burned where Ed touched him, the parts of his body still covered by clothes just as hot as the areas that weren’t, sure that their colors were seeping into the other’s skin despite the barriers. Oswald’s hands found purchase behind his head, clinging helplessly to Edward’s shoulders and the curly hair within reach as Ed placed his head in the crook of Oswald’s neck. The room was loud with echoed moans and soft panting from either man, ricocheting off the walls and filling the space to the ceiling. Oswald felt the outline of Ed’s hardened length against his backside, doing his best in this weakened state to push back and give Ed even a dose of the sweet friction he was feeling. Ed groaned loudly and pushed forward, his hips bucking in near sync with the pace of his hand. Oswald had never wanted anyone so badly he could scarcely bother with undressing first, it was a dizzying feeling to be desired so intensely. 

 

The heat built in his stomach, a warning tried its best to slip past the shameless moans. 

“Edw-- _ god.  _ I’m going t-,” Oswald couldn’t say anymore, his mind losing any ability of complex thought when the white-hot heat of orgasm blanketed his body. He cried out louder than he had ever known was possible, surely deafening with Ed’s ear so close. 

 

Ed’s hand took its time slowing down, coaxing Oswald through the last of his orgasm until the skin was too sensitive to touch. Oswald whimpered at the feeling, still mourning the loss of his partner’s hand despite the discomfort it might cause otherwise. Oswald mustered the energy to turn around, sure the look on his face was stupefied and sedated. Edward’s face was anything but. The man’s hair was disheveled, the look in his eyes still hungry and determined. Oswald spared a glance down to see that Edward was still painfully erect and uncomfortably constricted by tight trousers. He stepped closer to the taller man, looking up into the other’s eyes with feigned innocence. Without a second thought Oswald lowered himself to his knees, masking the wince of pain. He leaned forward to mouth at Edward through the emerald fabric of his pants, pulling back and marvelling at the small wet spot he’d left. Ed’s face was blissful shock, clearly struggling to comprehend the debauched display at his feet. A hand ran through Oswald’s sweat-dampened hair and he preened at the contact, pushing into it like a cat accepting careful affection. He took less time with Edward’s belt and zipper, knowing his lover was more impatient than Oswald had been during his turn. 

 

“You are  _ unspeakably _ beautiful.”    
  
Ed’s voice was filled with a reverence that made Oswald blush. Nobody had ever seen him that way, sure a willing mouth would glean a few insincere compliments now and then but none had ever meant so much to him. 

 

Oswald kept his eyes locked when he took Ed’s cock into his mouth. The groan he received was worth its weight in gold and he moaned loud enough to ensure the delicious vibration would draw another desperate sound from Edward’s throat. Oswald wasted little time with the teasing routine he had suffered at Ed’s hands, taking his cock down to the base and staying there until breathing became too difficult. 

 

“Oswald,  _ god _ you feel incredible.” 

 

He nearly beamed with pride, wrapping a free hand around the base of Ed’s length to focus on the leaking head. Ed’s grip tightened in Oswald’s hair, painful and intoxicating, if Oswald hadn’t finished so soon before he was sure this would be enough to get him going again. 

 

“Oh dear, oh dear, oh  _ dear _ ,” Ed chanted. 

 

Oswald worked faster, keeping his movement steady and letting saliva drip down his chin, certain he was the picture of depravity. Edward clearly thought so, his mouth hanging open in complete fascination at the display. Frantic hips thrust him further into Oswald’s mouth, earning small symphony of choking sounds.

 

“Yes,  _ yes  _ just like that, you are doing so well. God, look at you.” 

 

Oswald felt Ed’s hips stutter, the man a mess of praise and moans, clearly standing at the edge of the abyss and peering down. 

 

“Osw-- _ yes. _ ”

 

Oswald pulled off completely, seeing the look of desperation on his lover’s face before he took Edward’s cock all the way down to the base once more, earning a last shout of his name before he felt warmth coat his tongue and leak down his chin to mix with the saliva already there. After a few moment, Oswald pulled off and cleaned the remaining spent liquid with his handkerchief, tossing it carelessly aside when Ed pulled him upwards. This kiss was soft and tender, nothing hurried or frenzied in their embrace. Simple adoration for the other and an appreciate for the ecstasy they shared. Oswald took his turn to trail fingertips down Edward’s lithe arms, resting on those slender fingers and intertwining his own.  

 

“You are the business man’s greatest distraction, Edward Nygma,” Oswald beamed. 

 

Ed’s smile crinkled the corners of his eyes, “An easy thing to be when your boss is also your greatest devotion.” 

 

Oswald wrapped his arms around Ed’s shoulders, “I love you, my darling menace.”

  
  
“And I love you, my dearest terror.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She's baaaack. 
> 
> I would love to promise more regularity but unfortunately the holidays and retail work just don't mix like that. Enjoy my "I'm sorry for being gone so long" chapter <3


	15. The Curtain Falls

“That’s it, that freak is done,” Barbara seethed, “I want him run out of town, buried alive, impaled on a wooden stake--I don’t  _ care _ as long as I don’t see that smug grin of his again.”

“I am glad you are starting to see things my way, Barbara. But I am afraid that my approach will be less,” he paused, “colorful.” 

 

Jeremiah stood cold across from Barbara, gloved hands placed gingerly on his cane. 

 

Barbara slammed a hand down on her desk, “Whatever it is, you have my blessing. Kid, I want that little monster to suffer.” 

 

“You have my word, Barbara.” 

 

She gave a small nod with lips pulled tight, she could feel the beginnings of a twitch in the corner of her eye.

 

* * *

 

Oswald sat at the bar, his eyes running over paperwork that was steadily blurring together. Sure, it was likely important but since Barbara had waltzed in with her foolish demands, Oswald seldom thought of anything else. He had meant what he said, Edward didn’t know Barbara, not like Oswald did. She would play the waiting game and strike when she saw opportunity, Oswald didn’t feel comfortable relaxing until he knew what she had planned for him.

 

“Oswald?”

 

Ed’s voice echoed through the empty club, a small relief from all of Oswald’s brooding. 

 

“In here,” he smiled despite the weight on his chest. 

 

Edward always looked so happy to see Oswald, it was a refreshing change from the black and white detritus of his bureaucratic day-to-day. Ed’s face screwed up in confusion when he stood near Oswald’s seat at the bar. 

 

“Oswald, you look upset. You’re still thinking about Barbara and Tabitha’s visit the other day.” 

 

It didn’t need to be a question, Edward knew too well what ruffled Oswald’s feathers. There was a gnawing at the back of his skull, the promise of something great and terrible that threatened himself, his empire, his love. 

 

“How could I not? I can’t trust that Barbara Kean would tell the truth, she must have a larger goal, I--I need to know what she is doing,” Oswald’s voice shook. 

 

Ed’s eyebrows quirked, “Do you?”

 

Oswald took in a breath, realizing he had no answer to that. 

 

Ed stayed quiet and calm, merely taking a piece of paper from his stack and tearing a section of it. He hid his hands under the bar, Oswald trying to follow but being easily redirected to Ed’s gaze. He seemed to be fiddling with the paper but Oswald couldn’t see the exact purpose. 

 

“When Alexander encountered the Gordian knot, a knot so complex that no one had been able to untangle it--he just removed his sword and cut it in two,” Ed gave a breathy laugh, “details can be distracting, sometimes a simple solution is best.” 

 

Oswald’s eyes flickered between Ed’s stern face and his hidden hands.

 

“Barbara is a small fish in  _ your _ pond. So no matter  _ what  _ she is planning, just remember,” he set a small origami penguin on the bar between them.

 

“Penguins. Eat. Fish.” 

 

Oswald’s heart fluttered, the lines of the small figurine were so delicate and admittedly quite adorable. Ed’s severe expression melted quickly when Oswald held the fragile thing in his hands, admiring and running his fingers carefully over its crisp edges. He hesitated to look back up at Ed, feeling the emotion prick at the corners of his eyes. Ed moved closer, a hair’s breadth away from Oswald’s face with soothing thumbs ready to catch the falling tears. Soft lips pressed against Oswald’s forehead, the bridge of his nose, and nearly anywhere they could reach. They stayed that way for a few minutes, absorbing the other’s warm, silently enjoying the uniqueness of their gentle colors. 

 

Oswald pulled back, swiping at the last few tears left in his eyes.

 

“I suppose you’re right Edward, I’m being silly. There is very little Barbara can do without my knowing anyways,” he laughed, barely convincing. 

 

“I think there is very little Barbara would do to cross you,” Ed scoffed and pushed another stack of papers in front of Oswald. 

“A few last signatures and we can be done for the day.” 

 

Oswald huffed, “I always thought running an empire would be rife with terrorized citizens and extravagant parties.” 

 

Ed huddled behind Oswald, placing both hands on his shoulders and burying his nose in feathery black hair. He always appreciated the smell of Oswald’s styling products, and Oswald always appreciated the attention. 

 

“Work now, play later. Sign the papers, dear.” 

 

Oswald turned as well as he could with Ed behind him, “Promise?” 

 

Ed’s shrug complimented his smug smile. 

 

“I suppose you’ll have to find out, Mr. Cobblepot.” 

 

Ink has scarcely hit paper when both men heard a commotion outside the lounge doors. The sound of a two bullets fired, muffled with a silencer by the sound of it, and two large bodies hitting the ground with heavy thuds soon after. Oswald’s body went rigid, his first thought to protect Ed at any cost.

 

“Edward,” he whipped around to the stunned man, “I need you to get behind the bar and do not come up under any circumstances. Do you understand?” 

 

Ed’s eyes flicked to the doors and back to Oswald with a nearly undetectable nod. 

 

Oswald felt the cool metal of his concealed shotgun under the bar. Holding it poised against his shoulder and aimed at the door. His hands were unstable, in no way a stranger to firearms but the knowing how close Edward was to possible crossfire made his stomach churn. 

 

The doors opened slowly, far from what Oswald expected given the violence he was used to. It was all very eerie in its calm. The man that stood in the doorway was odd to say the least, with lily white skin and unnaturally bright green eyes. He was well styled and the large brim hat shadowed his relaxed features. Oswald felt a chill when the man looked at him. No words had been exchanged but something about his sinister composure told Oswald exactly who it was.

 

“Hello, Oswald. Terribly sorry about the mess.” 

 

Oswald squared his shoulders, finger itchy on the trigger. 

 

“Jeremiah Valeska,” he hissed. 

 

Jeremiah stared unblinking ahead, “My reputation precedes me.” 

 

Oswald’s heart raced, a perfect storm of anger and fear coursing through his veins, replacing the air in his lungs. He wasn’t sure what stopped him from pulling the trigger right then, this man was arrogant and reckless, but Oswald could scarcely afford another mark on Jim Gordon’s shit list.  

 

“Your reputation has earned you nothing but a bullet-sized hole in your head,” Oswald barked. 

 

Jeremiah strode toward Oswald, not a single care about the large firearm pointed at his chest. 

 

“You just refuse to see my vision, Oswald. Gotham is my canvas, and I intend to paint the town red. Whether you join me or not is of little consequence to my plans.”    
  
The pitch of Jeremiah’s voice never varied. He was intensely unnerving and possessed a commanding presence that sent a chill down Oswald’s spine. 

 

“I would die before I let you lay one finger on this city you--you, psychotic  _ clown _ ,” Oswald couldn’t help his volume. Worry about Edward still crouching behind the bar was creeping back into his thoughts.  

 

Jeremiah snapped his attention back to Oswald, “Now you’ve done a very bad thing, my friend. If there is one thing I am not--it is insane, I am the very  _ face  _ of sanity.” 

 

Jeremiah clicked his gun safety off, holding the pistol level with Oswald’s forehead. Oswald put greater pressure on the trigger. 

 

“Where’s that little lap dog you keep around here? I have heard so much about him,” his voice dragged, “Edward, was it?” 

 

Oswald’s eyes blew wide, he felt rapid breath catch in his throat, white-hot anger blurred the corners of his eyes. 

 

“How  _ dare  _ you pretend to be worthy of even saying his name. Edward is twice the man any of us will ever be,” Oswald seethed. 

 

“Well, it’s a shame he isn’t around to hear those touching last words.” 

 

**_“Oswald, move!”_ **

 

The entire world seemed to slow down, Oswald heard the sound of a pistol firing, but felt nothing in the seconds after. It took an agonizing amount of time to catch up with the blood rushing in his ears, finally registering the image of Edward scrambling from behind the bar and trying to get to Oswald. Jeremiah’s weapon finding easy aim and firing at--

 

“ _ EDWARD! _ ”

 

The name ripped through Oswald’s throat, tore his vocal cords apart in a mess of sinew and muscle. He didn’t remember running to Edward, watching helplessly as the man’s body fell in a heap to the cold tile of the lounge floor. Oswald dropped just as quickly, scrambling to huddle over his beloved, horrified by the amount of blood already flowing from Ed’s stomach. He gathered the tangle of limbs up in his arms, trying to cradle Edward’s head, get the man to look at him, to prove he was still awake. 

 

“Edward--Ed. Please, look at me--oh  _ god-- _ please.”

 

Oswald rocked back and forth, clutching Ed tight to his chest, a last ditch effort to shield him from a danger that had already passed. Oswald felt waves of nausea crash over him, he watched the normally brilliant glow of violet grow pallid and dim over Ed’s pale skin. His eyes were distant, unfocused and struggling to stay open. 

 

“You will  _ PAY _ for this, you wretched freak!” Oswald screamed at the top of his lungs, head throbbing with the effort and the fast flow of tears cascading down his face. 

 

Jeremiah tucked the gun back into his jacket, smoothing over his coat with an infuriatingly unaffected attitude. 

 

“I frankly don’t see how you will come back from this Oswald. I would promise to see you around but I no longer see a place for you in my new Gotham,” he glanced at Edward, “or your lover for that matter. Goodbye.” 

 

He turned and strode from the lounge as calmly as he entered. Oswald should have gone after him, should have shoved his shotgun down Jeremiah’s throat and pulled the trigger with no hesitation. He should grab the man from behind, bash his head against a wall until brain matter became ingrained within the particulates of drywall. But he was frozen, hands covered with Edward’s blood, trying desperately to stop the bleeding. The color drained near completely from Ed’s skin, pale and grey where royal purple should have bloomed. 

 

“Edward no, no I will not let you leave me. You are the love of my life, I have to protect you--you have to let me protect you, let me make this better just  _ please  _ don’t close your eyes,” Oswald begged, forcing Ed’s eyes to align with his own. 

 

Oswald held a hand against Ed’s cheek, trying to force the man’s eyelids open. Blood was starting to pool in his mouth, moving his lips to try and speak but coming up gargled. Oswald pressed his forehead hard against Ed’s, shaking his head back and forth, utterly paralyzed and useless. 

 

“Don’t--,” Oswald whimpered, unable to form a coherent thought. 

 

It was moments before he noticed a lack of movement, frozen to his spot and clutching Edward tight in his lap. Oswald hung his head, leaning heavy over Ed’s stilled chest. 

  
  


And the light was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my, oh my this was a tough one


	16. Reunion

The weeks following Jeremiah’s attack left Oswald cold and unresponsive to anyone he came into contact with. Victor did his best to peel Oswald off of the covers every morning, being left to carry out many of the daily tasks required to keep a city’s undercurrent up and running. Barbara had vanished, her business being puppeted with phantom claws, Tabitha likely squatting in the same place as her partner. Zsasz could only empty so many rounds into bumbling underlings before it became a redundant impasse, and an incredible waste of bullets. 

 

Oswald dragged his feet more than usual, not bothering with the cane when there was nobody to urge that he use it. The pain was nearly incapacitating and it quickly became the perfect excuse to stay seated for hours, brooding and sulking on his lonely throne. Oswald ached with longing for Edward, the days passed slowly in between visits and he was begrudging to leave Doctor Strange to his work. If it meant his love might recover quicker, Oswald would chain himself to the mansion walls and hide away for decades. 

 

The few days Oswald was allowed to see Ed were heartbreaking, hardly able to touch him or hold him, absolutely forbidden from climbing into the sterile hospital bed and curling up the way he wished. Ed looked terribly lonely, pale and much too restful for Oswald’s comfort. As infuriating as it could be to feel Edward’s constant fitful sleeping cycle at ungodly hours of the morning, Oswald would gladly take that over the quiet of the man lying deathly still in bed. He wanted movement, a sign of life beyond the beeping monitor and the weak rise and fall of Ed’s chest. Oswald resolved to talk for hours during his visits, uncomfortable with the expansive silence permeating each corner of the hospital room. It was deafening, a hushed vibration in his bones that taunted and teased him. A constant reminder that Edward was hurt and Oswald had carelessly brought such innocent, precious life into a war zone. 

 

“Ed, my  _ dearest _ heart, I wish they would strip my empire away. I wish Barbara Kean would waltz in, hired guns in toe and rip everything I worked so hard to achieve out from under me, if it meant I could hear your voice right now,” Oswald lamented. 

 

Oswald held Ed’s hand in between his own, wincing from the lack of response. The violet light struggled to be seen, still a sickly shade laying heavy in the pit of his stomach. 

 

“This isn’t how it was supposed to be, you were never supposed to sacrifice yourself for me. All of the awful things I’ve done, my empire built on a mass grave of anyone who dared to get in my way, but nothing could compare to the guilt I feel right now. That bullet was mine to take Ed, and I will never forgive myself if--”

 

His voice cracked with a sob, as if the thought was too painful to vocalize. Oswald shook his head, jarring such a ridiculous idea from its perch. Life was cruel, it had seen him beaten and bloodied more times than he cared to count, but of all his misfortunes, Oswald would sooner lay down his life than let fate take away the last thing he truly loved. Edward would wake up, he would walk again, Hugo Strange would fix him no matter the cost. 

 

* * *

 

Returning to the mansion became a chore in Ed’s absence, the house seemed cold and uselessly large without his partner’s constant fussing and meandering. Once Oswald had gotten into a semblance of routine without Edward to keep him largely on track, the house was always filled with mob families and any remaining members of the rogue’s gallery. It was largely a burden to deal with their demands and endless bickering but Oswald found he preferred it over the deathly silence of the manor. Chaos meant noise, and noise meant he wouldn’t be left alone with unwanted thoughts about Edward’s fate.

 

The nights were worst of all. Oswald hated the large empty bed, once a pinnacle of his bachelor lifestyle turned into a monument of loneliness. To keep his mind from wandering into darkness, Oswald thought of all the things he would do when Edward was well, how he would lavish the man with affection and gifts, take him to the finest dinners all around Gotham. Oswald would let everyone know who he belonged to, who belonged to him, and make an example of anyone who tried to take that away again. Visions of vengeance danced in his head. For the first few days he would shake with anger and forfeit sleep in favor of feeding that rage, but soon the ideas of how he might destroy Jeremiah Valeska became a macabre lullaby. He thought about taking a trophy for Edward, a part of the pale freak that might impress him. Maybe a few teeth, maybe a hand, and maybe even the clown’s head would make a grim centerpiece for their study. Oswald had drifted into another dream-like state at his desk, likely the lack of sleep finally catching up to him, when Zsasz slipped silently into the room. 

 

“Boss?” 

 

Oswald snapped his head to attention, “Yes, Victor--please excuse me, what was that?” 

 

“I just said that Strange called to say Nygma is aw--”

 

Victor stopped abruptly with Oswald’s hurried movement, the crippled man moving out from behind his desk with incredible finesse.

 

“Awake?” Oswald grabbed Zsasz by the shoulders, “Victor do you mean to tell me Edward is awake?” 

 

“Ya well, I  _ meant  _ to tell you, but looks like you beat me to it,” Victor said with some chagrin. 

 

Oswald patted the man’s shoulders after releasing his tight grip, straightening up and regaining a small bit of control. 

 

“Right, of course. Thank you for telling me, your careful attention these past weeks has not gone unnoticed,” Oswald tried to keep his voice steady. 

 

Victor screwed up his face, “You sure you’re alright, boss? I know you’ve been real upset recently and you seem like, way too calm right now.”

 

Oswald sucked in a sharp breath, closing his eyes against instinctual annoyance. Victor meant well, it was important he remind himself of that fact. 

 

“Yes, Victor. I assure you I am perfectly fine, just a little surprised is all. I didn’t expect a call like this so soon,” Oswald pushed the words through a tight smile. 

 

Victor quirked a non-existent eyebrow, “Anything you want me to do? Get anything ready for when you bring the guy home?” 

 

Oswald felt his heart rate quicken, Victor was right, the house was entirely unfit for Edward’s return. There were still mass amounts of firearms strewn about the table from Oswald’s last meeting and an embarrassing number of empty wine bottles from the nights when Edward’s absence was too much to bare without a vice. Oswald could feel his palms sweat and suddenly his necktie was too tight, everything was too close and entirely too small. The corners of his vision seemed to blur as the panic of what it meant to have Edward back sunk in, how close Oswald had come to losing the single most important thing in his world. But Ed was okay, he was awake, and all Oswald could do was act like a sitting duck in his office. 

 

“Hey,  _ bossman _ !” 

 

Victor’s voice cut through the haze once more. 

 

“There’s the enthusiasm I was lookin’ for, I’ll get the housekeepers to start cleanin’ all that mess up. It’ll be fine, boss.” 

 

Usually the slight taunt would send Oswald into a tizzy, but for once Victor’s dry humor helped ease his stress a small fraction. Oswald nodded, shooing Victor away so he might recover from the sudden panic in peace. 

 

* * *

 

The drive to Strange’s lab was agonizing, he swore every traffic obstacle must have been shoved their way just to test Oswald’s resolve. Victor stared unblinking at the large, inconspicuous building that housed Strange’s equipment and while Oswald was grateful for the anonymity he was nowhere near comfortable enough to arrive sans assassin. Victor gave a small nod to each of the guards standing post at the entrance before walking into the facility. It was no Gotham General but it served its purpose, though Oswald wished the good doctor would have taken his offer to provide Edward personal care within the walls of their home. Oswald’s uneven footsteps clicked along the marble floors and echoed off concrete walls. Sturdy, likely to withstand attack, perhaps it wasn’t all bad that Edward lay in his most vulnerable state in such a place.

 

“He’s in here,” Strange drawled, gesturing to the room Oswald had visited twice a week for nearly a month. 

 

Oswald nodded, his heart racing with the ideas of what might lay beyond that door. The possibility that Edward hadn’t fully healed, that something inside of him was irreparably damaged or he would refuse to see Oswald after his failure to protect him against Jeremiah. 

 

Everything moved in slow motion. Oswald felt like he was thrust into a scene from some overdone romance novel. The edges around the room were soft, light filtering in from the large window on the opposite wall. Ed was resting comfortably against the bed, sunshine blanketing his entire body and likely more dramatized in Oswald’s mind than what was real. He fumbled to Ed’s bedside, falling to his knees and gripping tight to the sheets. 

 

“Oh Edward, you have no  _ idea _ how happy I am to see you,” Oswald sobbed into the fabric, too afraid to meet Ed’s eyes. 

 

“Happy seems an understatement--I am relieved, grateful, guilty, and wholly in love with you on a level I never dreamed remotely possible,” he finally summoned the courage to look up, tears spilling over his cheeks, “and so,  _ so  _ sorry Edward. More sorry than I may ever be able to convey.” 

 

Ed’s smile was soft, dreamy around the edges. Something Oswald had missed in the weeks when he didn’t get to wake with Ed by his side. A gentle hand carded through Oswald’s hair. 

 

“Oswald,” Ed rasped, “what in the world do you possibly have to be sorry for?”

 

He shrunk at the sound of Ed’s tired voice, but was loathe to lose any contact with the comforting hand in his hair. 

 

“I--I couldn’t protect you. I let Jeremiah do this to you, and we were almost separated for good because of my weakness.” 

 

Oswald’s voice broke with the weight of that possibility, sounding nearly as weary as the man who had been in a coma for weeks. A quiet laugh startled him. Ed hardly laughed at the best of times and while there were many things Oswald would call sitting at his injured lover’s bedside, a good time was not one of them. He must have looked hopelessly confused because Ed settled back into a smile.

 

“Oswald, this wasn’t your fault. There was no way either of us could have known Jeremiah had planned his visit, or that he would resort to violence so quickly. From what I’ve seen he is significantly more reasonable than his brother, in most cases.” 

 

Ed looked down and placed a careful hand over his bandaged wound with a small hiss. 

 

“I got his attention, I knew he would turn to me because shooting you would be too simple. He wanted to strike where you are most vulnerable, and that just happened to be me,” Ed chuckled.

 

Oswald let another sob escape, burying his face back into the sheet still balled in his fists. He felt Ed run a hand to through his hair, urging him to look up. 

 

Ed’s expression steeled, “Our love is endless in its classifications, but a weakness is not one of them.” 

 

Oswald stood, stunned into silence by strong emotions too complicated to vocalize. He pushed the curls from Ed’s forehead, he’d hardly seen the man go so long without a haircut but the unruly state was undoubtedly endearing. 

 

Ed’s hand rested on Oswald’s cheek, thumb tracing delicately over thin lips. 

 

“I think,” Ed mused, “though it is impossible for an unconscious person to miss anything, somewhere deep in my subconscious I know I missed the feeling of your lips pressed against mine.” 

 

Oswald felt the heat of tears behind his eyes, but pressed back to keep them from falling. Every fibre of his essence yearned to be with Edward the way he wanted, to trace over soft skin and feel Ed under his fingertips. It wasn’t as if they couldn’t go such a time without intimacy, but Oswald couldn’t help the thought of how closely he had come to losing that privilege. 

 

Oswald smiled, “Strange was right, you’re all there.”

 

Ed’s hand urged Oswald’s face closer to his own, and Oswald was more than happy to oblige. He kissed Ed softly, careful to place his hand on the bedside, far from Ed’s wound. The small hum encouraged Oswald to deepen the embrace, putting his unoccupied hand on the opposite side of Ed’s bed, leaning over him in a terribly awkward position. Ed tugged at Oswald’s tie, encouraging the closeness. 

 

“Edward,” Oswald broke the kiss but stayed close, “I can’t come any closer than this.” 

 

Ed sighed, “Not standing like that, you can’t. C’mere” 

 

He pulled at Oswald’s tie once more for emphasis. Oswald looked back at the closed door, knowing Zsasz was only a few feet from them. He looked back at Ed, eyes pleading quietly. 

 

“I--I suppose I’m not one to deny an injured man his wish,” Oswald stumbled over his words, too embarrassed at the idea of being caught in such a compromising position to feign confidence. 

 

Oswald rested one knee against the bed, holding tight to the side and swinging his other leg over with some difficulty. Dropping to his knees at the sight of Edward did very little favors for him. The movement was far from suave, requiring some steadying from Ed’s hands on Oswald’s hips when the old bed frame swayed under the added weight. 

 

Oswald stared unsure at the protesting mattress, “I’m not sure this bed is fit to hold two people, so you’d better get your fill quickly.”

 

Ed smiled weakly, a sense of warm fondness spreading through Oswald’s belly at the sight. 

 

“Then I suppose you should quit whining and get back to kissing me,” Ed grinned. 

 

Oswald feigned a look of mock offence before leaning in for a more determined kiss, tilting his head to deepen it immediately. Ed’s fingers dug into the sharp bones at Oswald’s hips, pressing like he wished to explore further, to touch Oswald more than he was, but held himself back. Oswald ran his tongue gently across Ed’s bottom lip, intending to keep an air of suggestive innocence. 

 

Ed’s small hum turned into a groan, his fingers gripping harder into Oswald’s hips, it was entirely possible Oswald wordlessly suggested more than he intended. Ed’s tongue pushed past desperate lips, caressing and exploring the heat of Oswald’s mouth with a fervor neither expected from a man who’d been incapacitated for so long. Oswald smoothed his hands over strong shoulders, sliding into curls and tugging just so. Ed’s moan tasted sweet at the back of Oswald’s throat, both men advancing dangerously close to the point of no return, caution swayed treacherously in the wind. 

 

Oswald finally pulled away, meeting Ed’s blown pupils, his head thrown back with hair still tangled in a tight grip. 

 

Oswald beamed to see fluorescent violent smudged across Ed’s lips and chin, even beneath the thin hospital gown where his hands had trailed, while his own palms glowed with the most brilliant virescent tones. Oswald knew his expression must have been the most awestruck he could muster from the look of confusion on Ed’s face. 

 

“It’s been a very long month,” Oswald whispered, nearly breathless. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my apologies for not tagging major character death for the last chapter, but now we know why I couldn't do that! enjoy <3


	17. Encore

Oswald ushered Ed carefully into their home, laughing inwardly at the irony of a crippled bird now supporting his keeper.  

 

“I’m glad I wasn’t all there for most of my stay with Doctor Strange, I know I would have vastly preferred the m--”

 

Ed stopped abruptly, his hand tensed in Oswald’s loose grip. Oswald heard Victor draw his gun before the threat was made clear, but when Oswald turned toward where Victor aimed, his blood ran cold.

 

Barbara stood poised in the living room, gloved hands held up in defense.

 

“Oswald, call off the attack dog,” she pleaded, eyes volleying between the three men.

 

Ed could feel his partner’s anger electrified around them, the man was shaking and wordless.

 

“Tell us why we shouldn’t let Victor kill you where you stand,” Ed seethed, his voice low and gravel.

 

Barbara looked between the three of them, her hands raised farther in the air.

 

“Look, I’m not here to hurt anyone, okay? I just,” she inhaled deeply, “want to talk. That’s all.”

 

Oswald surged forward, almost causing Ed to lose footing. He stood in front of Barbara, daring her to move an inch without saying a word.

 

“And what could _possibly_ make me believe that,” Oswald spat the last word in her face.

 

Ed read genuine worry in Barbara’s expression, if the woman had any plans to harm them it would have been easy enough to draw a weapon while she lie in wait for their return.

 

“Oswald,” Ed shuffled forward, holding a hand over his stomach, “hear her out. And if she’s lying, we let Victor dispatch her. Clean and simple.”

 

He placed a hand on Oswald’s shoulder, a silent request for patience. Barbara lowered her hands slowly, eyes still fixed on Victor.

 

“Gee thanks, now can you please ask your bodyguard to put that thing away?”

 

Oswald shot his hand up to halt any movement from Victor, “I don’t think you’re in any position to be making demands, Ms. Kean.”

 

Ed shivered at the ferocity in Oswald’s words. Through endless observation of family meetings and luncheons with to-be-dispatched employees, Ed had never witnessed such a display of unbridled hatred in Oswald. He supposed it was highly inappropriate to feel pride in being the cause, but then again, they were light years away from the traditional nuclear family. His grip tightened on Oswald’s shoulder, curious to see what might happen if he encouraged that flare of fury. Barbara _was_ the one who nearly got him killed, even if she hadn’t pulled the trigger, proxy was akin to action.

 

“I know. Listen, Ozzie-”

 

Ed’s skin crawled, “You have _no right_ to call him that, you’ve forfeited any pleasantries we might have afforded before.”

 

Barbara’s eyes shot to Ed, he could tell she wanted so badly to chide him, tease or call him a name. Ed couldn’t deny the pleasure he felt in finally having the upperhand.

 

“ _Fine_ ,” she relented with pointed tone, “Oswald, you have to understand, I never asked Jeremiah to hurt anyone, I didn’t even ask him to come here. You know I’ve got plenty of dirt on my hands, same as the next guy, but what he did was sick.”

 

Barbara’s gaze flickered back to Ed, this time softened and sincere.

 

“I know what you mean to each other, and I wouldn’t try to end that,” her shoulders relaxed.

 

Ed wasn’t sure what prompted him to signal that Victor lower the firearm, and he didn’t feel the desire to continue seeing Barbara squirm more than she had. He made a mental note to check if Strange had performed some kind of experiment that tampered with his ability to detach himself emotionally. There would be hell to pay if that were true.

 

“Then tell us why you’re here, and make it quick. We want you out of our home--there sure is a _lot_ of lost time to make up for thanks to you,” Edward sneered.

 

Barbara finally lowered her hands and glared back, “I suppose I deserve that. Look, I want Jeremiah dealt with as much as you do, he’s a loose cannon. Tabitha and I thought we’d gained his trust but clearly that means nothing to him, so there’s no telling what stunt he might pull next.”

 

Oswald sputtered, “Oh wh--so now that _your_ heads are on the proverbial chopping block it’s looking lonely on the execution stage, is that right?”

 

“Oh please,” Barbara stood with both fists balled tight on her hips, “don’t act like some patron saint. You wouldn’t care about saving Tabitha and I if it meant you could save your own skin, so don’t play cute and act surprised when I do it.”

 

Oswald’s mouth opened without a sound before snapping shut, and he shrugged in resigned agreement.

 

“Exactly. So help find this painted freak and we can both keep the mister and missus safe, deal?”

 

Barbara stuck out a hand, her brows knit together with stern determination laced throughout her traditionally coy features. Oswald grabbed her hand and used the grip to pull her in close enough that Ed couldn’t hear what was being said.

 

“You have a deal, Ms. Kean. We’ll hash out the details soon, once Edward is settled and I know his condition is stable,” Oswald extended an arm out towards the front door, “I trust you can see yourself out as you’ve had no trouble letting yourself inside.”

 

Barbara gave a forced smile before heading to the door, stopping short to glance over her shoulder, “Thank you for hearing me out, boys. And Ed--I’m glad to see you’re alright, I mean that.”

 

Ed let his locked expression slip at the uncharacteristic tenderness, returning a short

nod. He could almost hear the tension release in Oswald’s shoulders, happy to see him finally release an exhausted breath. Ed closed the short distance between the two of them, running his hands across Oswald’s shoulders, trailing down his arms and over taut muscles at the back of his neck.

 

Ed kept his voice low, “You did an awfully god job of sticking up for me, Oswald.”

 

“Did I?” Oswald practically preened, “Well, with you being such a damsel in distress, it really left me no choice.”

 

Ed’s surprise at Oswald’s bold tone mixed deliciously with intrigue to see such a side of the man. The hairs at the base of his neck prickled. Ed addressed the bodyguard without tearing his gaze from Oswald.

 

“Victor. Go home.”  

 

Victor gave a quick salute, “Sure thing boss, you two have a good time playing catch-up.”

 

Neither man heard footsteps or the door shut, both far more entrenched in the other to bother checking. Ed let his fingertips ghost over Oswald’s cheek, tracing a line from the highest point and all the way down to his jaw, enjoying the purple trail left behind. He reveled in the fluttering eyelids that hid cool, green eyes for the split seconds when they closed.

 

“It was incredible to see you so angry, entirely ready to tear out her heart before she could say anything,” Ed neared a whisper, keeping his eyes locked on the movement of his own fingers.

 

Oswald sighed quietly and turned into the warm touch, “I would pull the still-beating hearts from the chest of every citizen in Gotham if it meant I could keep you safe.”

 

Ed gestured to himself with an exaggerated flair, “For me? You are a frightful romantic, Oswald.”

 

Ed bared his teeth, enjoying their animal display far more than he’d ought. But, he reminded himself silently, it had been nearly a month without Oswald and they were only human. Mostly.

 

“Only the best for you,” Ed felt himself pulled ever closer by the hem of his shirt, “my terror.”

 

* * *

 

 

Oswald supposed he should feel a measure of embarrassment in having to make an effort to reach Edward. But when his lips slotted so perfectly against the Ed’s, there was very little that could dampen his spirits. He pressed against Ed, still minding the man’s bandaged stomach. Oswald wrapped his arms around strong shoulders for balance, letting his jaw slacken and lips part to deepen the kiss. It didn’t matter how close they got, there would still be too much space between them. Time had stolen so many precious moments from Oswald, moments where he might have kissed Ed like this, might have had more opportunities to prove his devotion.

 

The feeling of Edward’s arms wrapping securely around his waist brought Oswald back to the present. Yes, he had all the time in the world now, every waking moment would be spent reassuring Edward how much he resented their time apart.

 

Ed was the first to pull away, still keeping his forehead pressed to Oswald’s, letting shared breath and unspoken adoration mix with each exhale. Neither man felt ready to open his eyes, Oswald being too sure unshed tears would fall.

 

“I have missed you so _dearly_ ,” Oswald whispered against Ed’s lips.

 

Ed gave a breathless laugh, “It sounds like my absence left a lot to be desired--so to speak.”

 

Oswald pulled back to see the mirth dance in Edward’s eyes, a smear of bright violet  over his lips.

 

“More than you will ever know,” Oswald replied in earnest.

 

A small noise caught itself in Ed’s throat, one that could be read as surprise or a tinge of curiosity. Knowing his audience well, Oswald felt confident it was the latter.

 

“Would you like me to tell you?”

 

Oswald pinned a healthy lilt to his tone and was hastily rewarded with a startle in Ed’s already wide eyes. He felt a swelling pride in being able to read his partner so well.

 

“I’m sure you would,” Oswald brushed a stray curl back from Ed’s face, “always so curious, dangerously eager. That’s going to get you into trouble.”

 

Oswald felt a flutter of nerves in his stomach, he was used to holding power over people, exerting his stern voice and looks to establish influence. But that was business, taking dominion over Edward was an entirely new and thrilling idea. Normally he found pleasure in being cared for by someone he loved so dearly, and it was charming how tender Ed could be in private. However, something about Ed’s soft eyes and vulnerable state sent unfamiliar feelings of obligation digging at the back of Oswald’s mind.

 

A sly smile played at Ed’s lips, “Are you going to be trouble?”  


Oswald took one of Ed’s hands in his own, grip slightly tighter than what might have been necessary.

 

“Loads of it.”

 

* * *

 

Ed hardly recalled their journey upstairs, bits and pieces of fumbling, desperate kisses between teasing words. He felt his back pressed up against the heavy door, blindly grabbing for the knob and nearly falling into the room with Oswald’s hands exploring feverishly. Ed let himself be guided to their bed, a soft mattress hitting the back of his knees that promised to be light years more inviting than the hospital beds in Strange’s facility.

 

“I think I missed sleeping in our bed most,” Ed hummed, “Strange grossly skimped on the comfort for my stay.”

 

Oswald huffed a laugh, starting to unbutton Ed’s already disheveled shirt, “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that slight about being second to a mattress, and say I will gladly give you anything you desire to makeup for such an injustice.”  

 

Oswald’s eyes glistened under dark lashes, he looked up with such a coy gaze is made Ed’s knees weak.

 

“You always take care of me,” he spoke softly.

 

“I very much intend to,” Oswald replied, already down to the last button and taking a painfully long time to finish.

 

Ed sat himself on the bed, careful to mind his still-healing stitches. He wasn’t in much pain anymore, though he didn’t intend to risk the healing process lest it ruin the moment. Oswald’s hands rested firmly on his thighs, encouraging Ed to spread them wider. Oswald’s lips ghosted over Ed’s and the tip of a crooked nose bumped playfully against his own.

 

Ed’s mouth felt dry when he spoke, “You’re torturing me.”

 

Oswald lightly kissed the corner of his mouth, being sure to dodge Ed’s attempt for more contact.

 

“I”m only savoring, enjoying those lovely noises I missed so dearly in your absence.”

 

Ed made a desperate sound at the back of his throat, “Denying a man in need, is what you’re doing.”

 

Oswald’s face cracked in mock surprise, “And what could you _possibly_ need right now, Edward?”

 

As if to prove his point, Oswald moved a hand to cup Ed through his trousers but stopped before applying any much needed pressure.

 

“ _Oswald_ ,” Ed groaned, doubling forward and feeling a slight sting when he did.

 

The burn was grounding, it had been so long since Oswald had been able to touch him like that, the prospect of a single hand cupping him through tight trousers was dizzying. Albeit embarrassing how easily he was affected.

 

“I like that answer,” Oswald pulled back with a look of smug satisfaction, putting more pressure on Ed’s crotch and dragging out another shameful groan.

 

Oswald pressed his lips hard against Ed’s, kissing him with the force of every moment they had missed. Ed eagerly returned the ferocity, swiping his tongue across the bottom of Oswald’s lip and giving a small bite in retaliation for the teasing hand between his legs.

 

It was too soon when Oswald broke the embrace, removing his hand entirely to pat Ed’s knee.

 

“Up against the headboard.”  


Oswald’s tone was short and demanding. It was exciting for Edward to hear the man use such a voice in private, all he’d ever heard before was wasted on undeserving gang members and staff.

 

Ed moved back against the headboard, resting upright on soft pillows and watching Oswald climb to the bed’s center. He took his time crawling towards Ed, impassioned green eyes focused on their target. The same feeling of pride when Oswald had been so stern with Barbara earlier flooded Edward’s body, the idea that he was the sole subject of Oswald’s attention, nothing else in the world could compare.

 

Edward was used to taking charge in the bedroom, happy to watch Oswald writhe and beg underneath him, but in that moment there was no position he’d rather be in. It felt natural, Oswald was right where he belonged, his influence and power sending heat through Ed’s entire being. Oswald crawled into Ed’s lap, being mindful of his wound and putting a safe distance between them. It was agony to know how close sweet friction was and to be denied. Finally a bitter taste of his own medicine, Ed supposed.

 

He hooked a finger under Ed’s chin and cooed, “Very good.”

 

Oswald leaned forward and nuzzled Ed’s jaw, letting gentle breath tickle his neck. Ed was embarrassed and more than a little offended Oswald wasn’t near the level of flustered that he was. However, it could be a rather easy fix.

 

Ed remembered the use of his limbs, before then feeling like they were simply useless blocks of concrete at his sides. He reached a hand to mimic Oswald’s earlier attention, cupping through his trousers and giving a meaningful squeeze. When the soft tickles at his neck stopped quick and Oswald’s body tensed, Ed knew they were back on the same page. Oswald pulled back with a disapproving gaze and pursed lips, Ed could feel a swelling fear in his stomach, perhaps he had overstepped or messed with Oswald’s plans? It was always enthralling to witness a victim’s reaction before Oswald dispatched them, sliced through them with threats or the steel of a blade, but being the deer in headlights was something entirely different.

 

Oswald’s expression melted into impish delight, “Oh, Edward, what are we going to do about those wandering hands?”

 

Ed felt his ears burn before his hand was roughly jerked from its place in Oswald’s lap. The other wrist was also snatched up, caught and held in Oswald’s deceptively strong grip. He twisted in Oswald’s hands, not imploring the man to release him, but merely enjoying the helpless feeling it provoked.

 

“Am I going to have to keep you restrained this way the entire time, or are you going to behave?”

 

Oswald leaned back to posture up in his proud glory, Ed wished he could rip his hands away, tear at the offending fabric and admire all of his lover. But the feeling of being so secure, so absolutely controlled by Oswald was undoubtedly more tempting. He was curious what the man might do, seeing how easy it was to gain submission all the times they’d been together before, in theory that fact should defy Oswald’s very nature. It was why Ed found obedience all the more attractive, to have the King of Gotham under his thumb, but he’d never thought how the inverse might feel.

 

It was _heavenly_.

“I’m yours, Oswald” Ed whined.

 

He squirmed in the grip, trying to lean forward and capture Oswald’s lips, solidify that promise the only way he knew.

 

Oswald tsked, “Now that doesn’t feel like obedience, Edward.”

 

Oswald dragged his lips over Ed’s, kept parted in invitation as much an expression of revery. Ed kept himself still, the only movement being a small twitch in his fingers that would have been undetectable. Every atom in his body screamed to be pressed against Oswald, to share warmth and breath, weave together each sound they made until it didn’t matter what belonged to who.

 

“That’s a good boy,” Oswald lilted.

 

He kissed Ed, sloppy and harsh. The wet heat of Oswald’s tongue slid past Ed’s parted lips, he groaned deep in his chest and sucked the welcomed intrusion farther into his mouth. Finally he earned a noise from Oswald, a whine at the back of his throat that told Ed he’d done well, found a crack in the armor and was determined to shatter the damn thing altogether. Ed let his cheeks relax, entangling his tongue with Oswald’s and taking in every detail of how soft the man’s mouth was.

 

A soft, “ _Mmph,_ ” was all Oswald could manage.

 

He dropped Ed’s hands heavy at his sides and scrambled to gain purchase at the back of his neck. Thin fingers wound into curls at the base of Ed’s scalp, pulling, scratching lightly with blunt nails. Oswald moved up higher in Ed’s lap, both men moaning unabashed into each other when their hips met.

 

“Pants,” Oswald huffed against Ed’s lips, “off--now.”

 

Ed’s impressive intelligence seemed to fail him, the old adage about walking and chewing gum simultaneously came to mind while trying to undress and rut against his partner at the same time. It very easily became a momentous task.

 

They fumbled with each other’s buttons and belts in order to force them open, losing one or two buttons along the way, zippers undone as far as they could go. Oswald sat forward long enough for Ed to get his pants and briefs pulled down his legs, stopped at his knees by desperate hands begging to get Ed the same level of exposed.

Oswald moved away from Ed’s lap, pulling fabric down the length of impossibly long legs. Delicate fingers traced his sensitive thighs and sent a symphony of shivers down his spine. Ed propped himself up on his elbows, allowed to see what a mess he’d become. Splotches of violet trailed his body and framed the painfully hard erection curling up against his belly.

 

Oswald’s fingers continued upwards to dance across Ed’s lower stomach, the muscles jumping anywhere he were touched, a blaze of purple left behind each brush. Ed had to look away, let his body flop back against the pillows in fear it would be too much for his lack of resolve after so long spent without Oswald’s caresses.

 

“Jesus Christ, _Oswald_ ,” Ed groaned and draped an arm over his eyes.

 

He heard the small huff of an amused laugh and grimaced behind his safeguard. That wasn’t a good sign, it couldn’t possibly be with how pent up Ed already was from so little attention.

 

Oswald’s gentle hands eased Ed’s arm away from his eyes.

 

“I want to see you like this,” Oswald said softly.

 

Ed could knew his face was emblazoned in a blush, feeling the roam of enraptured eyes over his body.

  
Oswald leaned over Ed, lips grazing his ear, “That’s better. You are so beautiful Edward.”

 

With the mention of his name Oswald wrapped a hand around Ed’s cock, swiping his thumb over the weeping head that had long since been dribbling precome. Ed’s hips bucked up, his entire body seemed to wordlessly beg Oswald for more. He groaned, burying his nose in the feathery hair still brushing his chin as Oswald smiled against his ear. Oswald’s occupied hand started to work in slow, languid movements, while the other reached up to lace between Ed’s fingers.

 

One hand pinned to the bed, another free to scramble for purchase on Oswald’s back. Ed dug blunt nails down, holding the best he could to encourage Oswald’s quickened pace where words failed him.

 

“ _Os--Oswald,”_ Ed barely managed between short breaths.

The smaller man leaned back until Ed could see a smug expression painted on beautifully sharp features. Oswald’s hips seemed to rock lightly in time with his wrist movement, suggestive and obscene for the ostensibly prudish kingpin. Ed released his grip on Oswald’s back in favor of taking the man’s equally neglected cock in his hand. He tried to keep pace with Oswald but the movement was fumbled and awkward as Ed tried to keep any semblance of focus in his mind.

 

Still, it didn’t stop the heady groan of his name from tumbling past Oswald’s lips.

 

Ed smiled back just as coy, though his eyelids drooped and his facial expression remained more lax than Oswald’s. A quick hand stopped him from continuing the ministrations. Oswald had let go of the grip that kept Ed pinned to the sheets in favor of snatching his working wrist away.

 

“Clever little thing,” Oswald huffed, his hair starting to hang in his eyes and stick to his forehead, “but I have more in mind for us than that.”

 

Ed could feel his bottom lip stick out in a pout, trying in vain to ignore the pleased feeling he gleaned from being called clever in such a context. Oswald’s thumb ran along Ed’s protruding lip, sticking around just long enough to be swiped at by a curious tongue before he pulled back.

 

“Stay still,” Oswald instructed with a chaste kiss.

 

He reached over to grab a small bottle from their nightstand, spreading a good deal of lubricant on his fingers before tossing it out of sight. Ed felt his eyes bug at the promise of what was to come, legs spreading slightly wider in subconscious invitation for Oswald to kneel between them.

 

Oswald looked stern for a moment, “I want you to tell me if you are uncomfortable at any point, and don’t think you can lie to me.”

 

Ed fought the urge to roll his eyes. Smart assery had its place, but the bedroom was not on that list.

 

“Oswald,” he settled for a knowing smile, “I appreciate the attention to detail, but I’m not sure how much longer I will last looking at you like that.”

 

Ed cherished the slight blush on Oswald’s cheeks, how embarrassed the man always got when his appearance was flattered--or very near worshipped whenever Ed was able.

 

A surprised gasp stuck at the back of Ed’s throat when he felt the gentle press of a finger against his entrance. Ed’s hips moved down when the feeling turned into light swirls of pressure, and then a slight burn that melted any resolve Ed had left. He whimpered and chewed desperately at his bottom lip. The slow pace was agonizing, Ed felt his mind swim in honey behind his eyes, everything moved in flashing suspension as Oswald worked the first finger. Ed did his best to move down onto it, gather friction or speed, whatever he could take, but a strong grip stilled his hips and dug in.

 

“What did I say, Edward?” Oswald teased.

 

Ed screwed his eyes shut, hypnotized by green light and pale skin moving above him.

 

“To be-- _huh--_ still,” he managed to pant out a reply.

 

Oswald crooked his finger, hitting a spot that made Ed’s heart plummet past the layers of fabric and cushion beneath him.

 

“That’s right, very good. Can you be still for me?”

 

Ed looked at Oswald’s imploring expression, trying to convey every ounce of need in his gaze. He gave a hurried nod, letting out another whimper. Oswald slowly worked a second finger in, twisting and curling in beautiful ways Ed never understood before then. His breath came in short, erratic bursts, the air was like a down comforter cocooning them both in a sticky heat. Oswald surged forward to capture Ed’s lips, licking into his mouth with reckless intensity. Ed happily guided Oswald’s exploring tongue past his lips, sucking gently like he’d done to pull such exquisite noises from his partner. Their moans of the other’s name lost in a mixture like a molotov cocktail of praise and desire. Ed threaded his fingers through black strands of soft hair, now dampened with sweat, and pulled anytime Oswald curled his fingers just right.

 

“Oswald,” Ed gasped against Oswald’s lips, “ _please_ \--I need you. I need-- _ah_ \--to feel you, all of you.”

 

Neither man wanted to part for too long, Oswald only moved back far enough to remove his fingers and spread the remaining lubricant over himself. He strained a soft moan when he touched himself and pressed the head of his cock to Ed’s entrance.

 

“I love you, _so_ much,” Oswald poured every ounce of sentiment into each word, the syllables played their own lovely tune in Ed’s mind.

 

Oswald pushed in slowly, allowing for adjustment with every inch. Ed never had to say a word, only bask in the emotion of Oswald’s encompassing attentions and catalogue every detail of the new sensations he experienced.

 

After a few moments pressed flush against each other, their bodies hot and slick, Ed wrapped his legs around Oswald to encourage movement. He leaned up to kiss Oswald, slower and more deliberate than they’d been before. The feeling of heated skin moving against him, inside of him was incredible, every part of him melted and curled in cascading waves.

 

Oswald’s hips snapped in rhythm against Ed, the bawdy sound of flesh and moans drifted in the air, joined the formation of their union.

 

“Oh, _god_ I--,” Oswald gasped, moving his lips over Ed’s neck in indiscernible patterns, “you are extraordinary.”

 

Ed felt the building heat in his stomach swell to a crescendo, the combination of Oswald’s movement against him, the feeling of fullness and adoration was a recipe for sweet disaster.

 

Ed dug his nails in Oswald’s back, wrapping his legs tighter and letting his head be thrown back, bared to Oswald.

 

“Oswald, m’not going to last,” Ed warned, speech slurred and far away.

 

Once again, slender fingers wrapped around Ed’s cock, causing his hips to jerk and a loud moan to be ripped from his throat as he finished with Oswald’s name on his lips. The stuttering hips told Ed that his lover was not far behind so Ed did his best with useless limbs to wrap them around Oswald’s shoulders and kiss him for everything he had left to give.

 

Oswald’s high gasp made Ed smile, the shivering under his fingertips told him he’d done well, for as little as he could do in such a state. They stayed in place for precious silent moments before Oswald wiped his hand haphazardly on a sheet and carefully did the same for Edward.  

 

Their simultaneous glow ebbed and flowed over their bodies, green and violet, promises of two lives saved with the healing of one.

 

Ed rolled over and huddled into Oswald’s side, tucking his head up against his neck.

 

“These sheets are ruined.”

 

Oswald hummed in tired agreement, his eyes already slipping closed. Small lines were traced over Ed’s back with soothing warmth to accompany them.

 

Ed breathed a contented sigh, struggling to recall a time he’d felt more loved than being there, wrapped up in Oswald’s arms.

 

“After how much we couldn’t stand the other upon our first meeting, I wonder what events transpired to bring us here,” Ed posed, taking note of Oswald’s even breathing.

 

“M’sure we’ve talked about getting existential before bed, my dear,” Oswald huffed.

 

Ed smiled at his tone, fond but still with an edge of grumpy exhaustion.

 

“Well,” Ed unfurled his head from under Oswald’s chin and kissed the crooked bridge of the man’s nose, “whatever the answer, I’m happy to have died for it, even for just a moment.”

 

Oswald’s opened his eyes with a sad softness, and kissed Ed firmly, a silent promise.

 

“And _I’m_ happy to live everyday for it, from now on,” Oswald said with a smile, “Goodnight, my dear.”

 

Ed moved closer, his head back under Oswald’s chin with an ear pressed to his chest, lulled by a steady heartbeat.

 

“Goodnight, my love.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still making up for my tomfoolery in ch.15 with this one 
> 
> hope everyone had lovely holidays :^)


	18. Stranger Things

Oswald could feel the strain of looking for Jeremiah in every aching joint and headache he endured day to day. He knew by now there was nothing he could have done to prevent Jeremiah’s attempt on Ed’s life, but the hard worked involved in tracking down Gotham’s clown prince steadily chipped away at the weight of guilt that sat like lead in Oswald’s stomach.

 

Oswald personally checked every lead he was given, though all of them amounted to nothing more than empty promise and waning hope. 

 

Everyday he wished for new ways to prove his devotion to Ed, beyond physical, beyond verbal. Presenting Jeremiah on a silver slab was his perfect promise. A melding of secrets encrypted in a love language only they two could understand. It was slow going, with the painted fiend fast on his way to making enemies all about town, he had the common sense to avoid residing in one hideout for too long. 

 

Oswald rubbed at his temples, attempting to stave off the hum of pain under his fingertips. 

 

“You’re looking rough, big guy.” 

 

Victor’s voice cracked the stuffy silence, Oswald could taste his heart in his throat. 

 

“My goodness, Victor,” he huffed, “remind me to have a chat with you about sneaking up on me like that.” 

 

Victor shrugged, “It’s kinda’ in my job description. ‘Element of surprise’ and all.” 

 

“Right, speaking of jobs,” Oswald waved a hand and pressed two fingers against his racing pulse, “I assume you’re here for a reason?” 

 

“Oh ya, there’s been another sighting. I know you’re getting real tired of this, I’m happy to go,” Victor craned his head, more insinuation than endearment, “take the reins on this one.” 

 

Oswald bowed his head, “I appreciate the initiative Victor, but I’ll handle this on my own. I want to be there when one of these leads eventually turns out.” 

 

“What’re you gonna do to him?” 

 

Victor didn’t attempt to hide the amusement in his voice. 

 

Oswald stood from behind his desk, relished in the cracks that rolled up his spine, snapped his neck to either side and enjoyed the sound of bones sparked back to life. His fingers curled and clenched against the desk’s edge. He imagined for a second what Jeremiah’s throat would feel like in his grip. Maybe revenge would be slow and painful, let Victor have his way to prove Jeremiah wasn’t even worth Oswald’s personal attention. Perhaps he’d do to the villain what was done to Edward. 

 

Oswald smiled back at Victor, “I’ll decide on the way, see what strikes me in the moment.” 

 

* * *

 

Ed felt a pit in his stomach when their car pulled up to an unassuming building near the heart of Gotham. The air wrought with something he couldn’t explain but felt heavy on his shoulders. This tip was similar to the ones before, strong possibility of a dead end and back to square one. But something told Edward different, this would-be agent of chaos sat unaware behind layers of concrete and drywall, he was sure of it. 

 

Ed concealed a firearm flush with his jacket lining, the feeling was alien and uncomfortable. He preferred a blade when possible, but his greatest weapon sat squarely between his ears. 

 

His fingers twitched on the center seat, stilled by the enveloping warmth of Oswald’s hand. Wordlessly their fingers intertwined and Ed felt grateful for the silent assurance. 

 

Oswald smiled, “Whatever happens, whether he’s there or not, I want you to know I love you.”

 

Ed felt a sickness settle between his ribs, his expression fallen. 

 

“Oswald, don’t say that as if it’s the last time.” 

 

A small squeeze of his hand steadied Ed’s nerves. 

 

“Of course, I promise not even death could keep me from reassuring how loved you are, Ed.” 

 

Oswald released his grip as their car came to a stop. 

 

A shared nod and hasty exit from the car sent them into the building. Likely an abandoned office with a worn exterior that stood testament to its age, layout empty save for the odd trash can and broken bottle. 

 

Ed stood near Oswald, a cautious hand on his shoulder to keep his partner from waltzing past their reinforcement. As little effort on Oswald’s part was Ed’s grand plan, muscle was disposable, a priceless love was less easily replaceable. 

 

Often imitated, never duplicated. Jeremiah proved a fine example.

 

For his own strife, Ed found more offense in this nobody trying to assert himself among  _ their _ city,  _ their  _ subjects. Amateur hour at Arkham Asylum produced the most lackluster opponents. 

 

The wall of hired guns stopped short, Ed gripped Oswald’s shoulder tighter in plea to follow suit. A small sound, repeating and easily covered by echoing footsteps could be heard under them. Ed squared his shoulders and dropped his hand near the firearm in his coat. He wasn’t so good with a gun, but maintaining appearances was half the battle. 

 

Oswald nodded to his front man, quietly signaled two men to inspect an open hatch that Ed assumed opened into the building’s basement. Everyone moved with slow, deliberate action. Oswald drew his gun, hammer pulled back in anticipation. The air surrounding them was palpable, Ed might have reached out and wrapped it around his knuckles, tugged and pulled like a curious child on their mother’s skirts. He hated the feeling, surprised at himself for wishing that something were to happen,  _ anything _ that might soothe his torturous suspense. 

 

A loud crash from behind startled every member out of their prowling. Ed found his hand clenched tight around his firearm, pulsing nerves unable to hold it steady. There was a riotous commotion of voices and vehicles, the cacophony of gun safeties clicking. 

 

One particular voice that made Ed’s shoulders sag, he noted the look of incredulous annoyance on Oswald’s face. 

 

“GCPD,” Jim’s voice boomed, “Oswald, call your men off. All of you drop your weapons.” 

 

Oswald’s glare could have leveled entire city blocks, arm dropped heavy at his side. 

 

“For the love of-- _ Jim,  _ I had a sneaking suspicion you would find a way to mess everything up, you really have a knack for it,” Oswald chided.  

 

Jim moved closer, apprehension in every step. One hand held his gun, the other held in front of him like a warning. 

 

“Oswald, c’mon it doesn’t have to be like this. We can discuss this civilly, just drop your weapons.” 

 

Ed wished he could carve out the edge to Jim’s words and turn it back on him, see how he appreciated such unnecessary ferocity when it was at his expense. 

 

“Our business has nothing to do with you, James,” Ed chimed, “now, run along before your tough guy routine gets you into trouble.” 

 

Ed delighted in the proud smile his addition pulled from his partner. 

 

Oswald raised his arm level with Jim’s head, “I think you’ll understand if I don’t exactly trust your parade of wannabe heroes back there. How am I supposed to know they won’t harm me and my men even if we do as we’re told?”

 

Jim looked briefly over his shoulder, ignored a pleading glance from Harvey as he let up his defensive position, hands held in the air. 

 

“All officers hold your fire,” Jim resigned, holstered his own gun in compliance. 

 

Oswald bowed his head for a moment and held up a hand. Ed snapped his head around, imploring obedience. 

 

“Alright, you have my attention,” Oswald huffed. 

 

Jim stepped closer, regarded both men before he spoke. 

 

“I know why you’re here,” he kept his voice low, “and I won’t say I blame you. What Jeremiah did was terrible, but that doesn’t mean you two can take the law into your own hands.” 

 

His gaze flickered between them, a feeling of unabashed anger curled in Ed’s stomach.

 

“How  _ dare _ you pretend to know what we’ve suffered, what we could have lost. If you really cared, we wouldn’t be here right now. It’s clear you all lack the basic competence t--” 

 

“Ed,” Oswald interrupted with a calming hand on Ed’s shoulder, “please. Jim’s given us his trust, I suppose he’s earned our cooperation.” 

 

“Oswald’s right, I never wanted to let Jeremiah get this far. We’ve worked tirelessly to apprehend him, for the sake of  _ all  _ Gotham citizens.” 

 

Ed hardly processed the words before his focus landed on loaded weapons being trained back on their troop. He aimed his own, giving a shout for their guards to follow. 

 

Jim whipped around to face his squadron, “I  _ said  _ hold your f--”

 

“Jim,” Harvey pointed past them, “we’ve got company.” 

 

Ed’s eyes followed where Harvey pointed, landing on the pale figure standing behind them. His appearance set off a flurry of emotion in Ed’s stomach; fear, rage, self preservation. It felt like a tidal wave had crashed into his chest and knocked the wind from his lungs, made steady breath unbearable and impossible. He could hardly raise his arm let alone aim his weapon. 

 

Ed could see Oswald’s wild eyes in the corner of his vision. His partner shook with impassioned fury, the gun coming up slowly as Oswald limped forward, breaking into the closest thing to a run he could manage. Neural pathways piled up, blockaded themselves and forced Ed to stay put. 

 

Jim stepped forward, apprehension visible in every muscle. 

 

“Oswald,” he warned, “whatever you’re thinking, don’t do this.” 

 

Words had no effect for a man with revenge in his heart. He charged forward unabashed, and planted his gun between Jeremiah’s eyes. Ed could see slim shoulders shake from his vantage point in no man’s land. 

 

“Tell me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill him where he stands,” Oswald seethed. 

 

Jim made his way closer, gun trained hesitantly on Jeremiah, a rousing game of pick your poison. 

 

“Well for one there are about thirty witnesses.” 

 

Oswald stomped his foot, “I don’t  _ care. _ ” 

 

“Would it help if I said pretty please?” Jeremiah let his words hiss and curl around Oswald’s throat. 

 

He pressed the gun harder between unblinking eyes, white hot anger blanketed Oswald’s vision. The smug satisfaction on Jeremiah’s face sent his head into a tizzy, all he could feel was his arm coming up to strike with the gun. Oswald watched red bleed over pale skin from a small split on Jeremiah’s cheek. He wanted more, he wanted to drain the monster of his life, the way he’d done to Edward. 

  
Oswald raised his arm and struck again, watched Jeremiah fall to the ground. He stood over him, bringing down strike after strike, watching pale green eyes disappear behind swelling lids. Oswald’s knuckles burned to match the breath in his lungs, he was screaming, the spectacle would have been embarrassing if he could find the capacity to care. 

 

There was clamoring behind him, the faint sound of Ed’s voice calling his name. Oswald pressed his gun against Jeremiah’s belly, ready to pen poetic justice for his partner. 

 

He leaned close to Jeremiah’s ear, “I would advise you not to say anything else, unless you want this to get very,  _ very _ bad for you.” 

 

“I seem to understand things are already not going my way,” Jeremiah smiled with blood soaked teeth. 

 

Oswald felt his arm yanked back, he whipped around to meet Ed’s pleading eyes. 

 

“Oswald,” he said softly, “don’t do this. You’ll end up in Arkham or worse, there are about thirty targets on your back and an armed task force who won’t miss.  _ Please _ , this is no longer our fight.” 

 

Oswald’s chest heaved with the weight of his choices. He wanted nothing more than to give Edward this gift, to stain their clothes with Jeremiah’s blood so they might never forget the depth of their devotion. Surely the second he fired, Oswald would be shot. He trusted Jim to do the job with a non lethal hand but wasn’t afforded the same security with the bloodthirsty officers under Jim’s commanded. 

 

He looked down at Jeremiah, bloodied and swollen with a glint of fear in the eye that could still open. Oswald felt wary satisfaction. 

 

“It’s not what I wanted,” cast his weapon and breath aside, “but I suppose this is sufficient.” 

 

He stood from over Jeremiah, retreating to where Jim stood behind them. Oswald wiped his blood-splattered hand on his coat and stuck it out. 

 

“No hard feelings. Right, Jim?” 

 

“I’ll take a rain check on that handshake, we’ve got it from here.” 

 

Oswald nodded and took Ed’s hand in his own, letting the blood meld between their fingers. They started off before Jim spoke again. 

 

“And Oswald? Ed?” 

 

Both men paused in quiet acknowledgement. 

 

“Jeremiah won’t be hurting anyone else, I promise.” 

 

Of that much, they were certain.

 

* * *

 

Ed waited until Oswald was sat comfortable in the back seat before bombarding him with fevered kisses. They were clumsy, miscalculated, mostly aimed anywhere Ed could reach. 

 

Oswald laughed and stilled Ed’s movement, his cheeks flushed in a lovely shade of pink. Uneven purple luminescence illustrated just how off Ed had been.  

 

Oswald stifled his giggle, “Not that I’m complaining but, what’s all this about?” 

 

Ed pulled back, reordering the memories of Oswald’s face to match what he saw then. Specks of blood to match freckles he loved so much, and the devastating way Oswald looked at him like Ed created the world beneath their feet. 

 

“You were going to kill Jeremiah in front of them, without hesitation,” Ed replied, breathless. 

 

Oswald traced Ed’s jaw with his thumb. 

 

“I would have killed everyone in that room, all for you my dear.” 

 

Ed kissed him with every ounce of reverence he had left, desperate to convey his appreciation. He didn’t linger for long, earning a small noise that evolved from protest to intrigue when he moved along Oswald’s jaw. 

 

“You’d commit such atrocities for me?” Ed whispered between teasing scrapes of his teeth. 

 

Ed felt fingers tug at his hair, his lips moved down to feel Oswald’s breath hitch in his throat. 

 

“One by one, with my own hands,” Oswald gasped. 

 

He grinned, pressed his teeth against Oswald’s pulse, “Tell our driver to get us home quickly, I want to show you how I grateful I am to have such a courageous protector.” 

 

Ed chuckled at the high pitched frustration in Oswald’s voice and let himself be pulled into his partner’s lap with a contented huff. 

 

* * *

 

“Can you believe they are just  _ now _ bringing Jeremiah into the station,” Oswald grumbled, sinking further in his seat. 

 

Ed set his cup down, eyes still fixed on the morning paper, plastered with the clown’s face. One that was now significantly less appealing, a fact on which Oswald prided himself.

 

“The GCPD’s level of functionality is deplorable, not that they’ll let anyone tell them so.” 

 

“I suppose you did, many times?” 

 

Ed sighed, “I did my best, but nobody ever wanted my help.” 

 

Oswald put a reassuring hand over Ed’s, “I would be nowhere without your help.” 

 

Ed smiled at the gesture, quickly returning to the paper in his hand. 

 

“There’s going to be press when they bring Jeremiah in, lots of it. We’re going into town today, I don’t see why we can’t pay them a visit.”

 

“What are you getting at, Edward?” 

 

Ed shrugged, “I only think it’s best we let them know exactly who it was that found Jeremiah.  _ You _ were the one who spent countless hours tracking him, and  _ you _ were ultimately successful. I don’t see why Jim Gordon deserves the fruits of your labor.” 

 

Oswald mulled the idea around his head, let his answer come to rest on his tongue, light and sweet as honey. 

 

“You know Ed, you’re absolutely right--”

 

“Often am.” 

 

Oswald ignored that, “Why should they get all the praise for  _ our  _ suffering? We will go to the GCPD at once and let the people meet their true saviors.” 

 

* * *

 

Oswald paused at the mouth of the bullpen and scanned the clamoring crowd. There were flashes every few seconds while Jim Gordon stood above his people, spewed something about the importance of right and wrong. 

 

“Like he’s the unmasked hero of Gotham,” Ed mumbled under his breath. 

 

Jeremiah stood emotionless at Jim’s side. His hands and legs were restrained, large leather straps held him tight against a dolly. Oswald stormed up large steps, Ed following closely behind, both made sure to stand clear of Jeremiah. 

 

Oswald snatched a microphone and cringed against its feedback. 

 

“Oswald, what are you d--,”

 

He held up a hand to silence Jim. 

 

“Ladies, gentleman, and others. I come to you now with the truth about Jeremiah’s capture.”

 

A murmur trickled its way through the sea of reporters. 

 

Oswald continued, “Yes  _ I _ , Oswald Cobblepot, am the reason you see this man before you.” 

 

A wave of disbelief sounded from each reporter.

 

“Jeremiah Valeska has been nothing short of a blade in my side these past months after he nearly took something from me. Something I love very dearly,” Oswald gestured to a surprised Edward, “this man, the single most important person in my life, was shot by Jeremiah and left for dead. And after living through a waking nightmare, we worked tirelessly to track down Mr. Valeska and make him pay for what he had done.” 

 

A collective gasp bowled through the journalists, each one writing furious notes and taking snapshots of a wide eyed Jim Gordon. Echos of questions sprouted from every corner of the crowd. 

 

_ ‘Mr. Gordon, is this true?’ _

 

_ ‘Was a known criminal really more successful than this city’s own police department?’ _

 

_ ‘Mr. Cobblepot, how did you manage to track down the most wanted man in Gotham?’ _

 

Oswald’s collar was yanked closer to Jim’s scowling face. 

 

“Leave. Now.” 

 

Oswald pulled back and smoothed his tie, plastered on a showman’s smile, “You can pretend all you’d like Jim, but the people deserve to know who is keeping them safe.” 

 

Oswald turned his head and spoke louder, “Clearly that person is not Jim Gordon  _ or _ the GCPD.” 

 

Jim stayed quiet, his teeth should have cracked with how hard he bared them. He only signaled a few officers to collect Jeremiah and refused any further questions for the moment. 

 

Oswald turned to Ed with a triumphant grin, deaf to prodding questions, he took Ed’s arm in his own and swaggered out of the chaotic police station to a symphony of cheers. 

 

Settled in the car’s backseat, Oswald enjoyed the fuss of Ed’s busy hands righting his tie and smoothing his collar. 

 

“You know, for what it’s worth, I think you’d make a  _ very _ fine mayor,” Ed mused. 

 

“Right,” Oswald scoffed, “and you’ll be my loyal Chief of Staff.” 

 

Ed laughed, his fidgeting hand drew small, patterned circles in the fabric of Oswald’s coat. 

 

“You never know, stranger things have happened in Gotham.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnnnd we're finished! I would be lying if I said I wasn't thrilled to be done with this monster, I've learned my lesson and I see more 4-5 chapter fics in my future. I found myself not wanting to work on other stories until this was finished because very much like Ed I too have a desperate, compulsive need to finish what I've started in exacting fashion. But thank you to anyone who stuck around till the end, I am proud of this beast regardless <3


End file.
